


Unlikely Places

by JBankai89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha Severus Snape, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe: No Voldemort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Depression, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Harry, PTSD, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Child Homicide, Past Dangerous Abortion, Past Kidnapping, Past Miscarriage, Past Rape, Past Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Support Alpha, harry doesn't go to hogwarts, recovery fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2020-04-11 20:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 69,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19116850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBankai89/pseuds/JBankai89
Summary: There were many things Harry Potter was supposed to do with his life. He was supposed to go to Hogwarts, step into his heritage as a wizard, rejoin the world that Dumbledore protected him from in his formative years.All of this was snatched away from him when at ten years old, the young omega, blissfully ignorant of his destiny, was kidnapped by Walden Macnair. For ten awful years, Harry was kept prisoner by the madman, until he wad rescued by a group of wizards and brought to an omega clinic to recuperate.While there, Harry was presented with two options; go home with his true family—his godfather and his husband—or be taken in by a Support Alpha, whose sole purpose would be to help Harry recover from his trauma. Harry chooses the latter, not quite ready to face this life that was still waiting for him.Unfortunately, no one was quite prepared for who Harry chose as his support: Severus Snape.





	1. Prologue: Found

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I've taken more than a few liberties where canon is concerned with this one, so in particular if you're a stickler for keeping canon with fanfic, this story might not be for you. 
> 
> In case you missed it, this is a story where Harry has grown up not knowing he is a wizard, and this is a No Voldemort AU, meaning that following the initial attack on the Potters' residence, Voldemort's shuffled off this mortal coil, and by extension, no Horcruxes. 
> 
> Also, despite the huge volume of warnings on this story, it's actually pretty fluffy, as it focuses mostly on Harry's recovery, rather than exactly what happened in explicit detail. However, for any chapters that include trigger-y or upsetting material, as always, those chapters will be tagged in the opening notes. Next update will be Sunday, June 9th, and then after that this story will be updated biweekly. Please enjoy :)
> 
>  
> 
> **Please note that though this fic features rape, because it is never depicted super explicitly, I chose to not tag it. However, where it comes up, there will be a trigger warning in the opening notes of the chapter where it is featured.**

Prologue – Found

 

Remus sat in an uncomfortably squashy armchair across from Albus's desk. He was hand in hand with his mate, the omega clinging to him almost desperately, as though he was afraid that Remus would disappear if he let go.

Under normal circumstances, Remus would not be so openly affectionate with Sirius directly in front of his employer.

However, these were far from what he would consider _normal circumstances_ by any means.

And Sirius certainly needed the support, after what Albus had just finished telling them.

 

“I—I don't understand,” Sirius said shakily as he reached up to run a hand through his hair. His eyes were heavy with guilt, and he looked as emotionally shredded as Remus felt. “How was Harry _found?_ You told all of us what he was dead.”

Remus remembered the story well.

He remembered that Albus had _insisted_ Harry go to his aunt and uncle's house after Sirius had been arrested.

Then, a mere ten years later, Harry disappeared off the face of the earth.

Harry's guardians had told Albus he'd run away, a fact Albus had reluctantly relayed to Remus after _much_ pestering, while other sources claimed that he'd been murdered, though no body had ever been found.

For many years, Remus had been _furious_ with Albus—certainly the hands of a werewolf were safer, if Harry had to _run away_ from his relatives?

Even now, Remus had not fully let go of that anger. Albus had failed Harry, failed _Sirius_ , who spent twelve years in Azkaban while Remus fought relentlessly against Werewolf Laws, Omega Laws, and General Legislation to get his bonded omega out of prison for a crime he did not— _could not_ commit.

Remus felt like he had nothing else to gain if he, too, was arrested for his incessant pestering at the Ministry. Despite this, amazingly, almost ridiculously, Dumbledore still approached him with a job offer, and assured him that his political assault upon the Ministry would not cause him to risk getting the sack.

And so Remus continued his onslaught until the the twelfth year of Sirius's incarceration.

Really, the only thing keeping Sirius in there were the letters from his alpha, begging—no, _pleading_ with him to stay strong, and not try his little trick with his Animagus form, and slip out unnoticed.

The miracle was that for once in his life, Sirius had actually _listened._ And in that same year, he stumbled across the mischievous Weasley twins with a _very_ familiar piece of parchment in their hands.

The confiscation of it naturally led to wondering how well their spellwork had held up over the years, and Remus felt an odd sense of glee as he muttered the words, “ _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_.”

It was an unremarkable night when it finally happened.

One night he was perusing the map, not quite looking for troublemakers, but in order to just see how well it still worked, when a peculiar name cropped up on the map that shouldn't have been there.

_Peter Pettigrew._

Even now, Remus was deeply grateful for his ability with concealment spells. While his Disillusionment Charm would never be as powerful as one Albus could conjure, it was enough to merit a decent disguise, and with his wand illuminated and the map in hand, he went rat-hunting.

He found Peter hiding in a rat-hole, half his fur missing, dents in his ears where someone or some _thing_ had bitten through them, and he was utterly skin and bone.

“Hello, Peter,” Remus had said.

It was rather a miracle that the rat didn't escape. Remus was quick to conjure a glass jar with an unbreakable charm set into the material before he sealed it (the air holes added somewhat reluctantly) and he brought the rat to the Ministry.

 

From there, it had gone rather quickly, aided in no small part to the fact that Remus had stormed the Ministry with all the power of an invading army, and _demanded_ to see the Minister _at once._

In hindsight, Remus understood how badly everything could have gone, given that a werewolf screaming and yelling for the Minister for Magic while brandishing a rat in a jar wasn't his _best_ plan in a long line of bad plans, but miraculously, it panned out as it should have.

Remus used a charm to show the Minister the traitor's true form, and Remus then bound Peter, indicating both that Peter had a missing finger _and_ his wand was still with him. A simple _Priori Incantatem_ showed them all that they needed to know. Peter was arrested, and Sirius was released.

 

Remus wished he could have said that the act led to some sort of domestic bliss for himself and Sirius.

Unfortunately, with Harry still missing or dead, and Sirius experiencing painful and often dangerous fertility issues thanks to his treatment in Azkaban, they could not have children of their own. There was nothing to fill the hole that Harry had left, nothing to focus on, except each other.

 

Until now, that is.

“I had not expected this—any of this,” Albus said as he gazed at the pair, his voice drawing Remus from his memories. “Please know that it is a very delicate situation, and the moment I heard of it, Harry was rescued.”

“Rescued from _what,_ exactly?” Remus snapped, his frustration beginning to boil to the surface. He had no time for Albus's games. “You've told us precious little of what actually _happened_ to Harry, or who had him.”

“Walden Macnair,” Albus replied, disgust seeping into his voice for the first time. “It would appear as though he wanted to raise what he considered to be the _perfect omega_ for himself. Who better than the Boy Who Lived?”

“Oh, _Merlin_...” Sirius breathed, and not for the first time, tears began to stream down his cheeks.

Remus pulled Sirius into a protective embrace, uncaring that Albus was watching, and allowed his omega to scent him. The smell of Remus seemed to calm Sirius slightly, and he turned back to face the headmaster again. Albus offered Sirius a handkerchief, which he accepted before he continued.

“I do not know the full extent of what Harry went through, and the Magical Law Enforcement teams are still excavating bodies from the property—so far, they have about twelve child corpses, and we do not yet know if Macnair forced Harry to participate or not,” Albus continued as Sirius dabbed his eyes, and Remus held tight to his mate. He felt sickened— _beyond_ sickened—by what he was hearing, but he couldn't let it show. Sirius needed him to be strong.

“He's confused and disoriented,” Albus continued in that same infuriatingly placid tone of his. “He won't say much to me—but then, to him, I am merely a stranger. Macnair swallowed a vial of poison the moment he saw the Ministry Wizards, and so we can only glean a little from some of what Harry has told the mind healer who has been assigned to him, Healer Gemma Perkins. That is to say, what Harry has allowed Perkins to share—you know how powerful a mind healer's confidentiality magic can be.”

“Indeed,” Remus agreed.

“What now?” Sirius asked, his voice a little steadier, but still bore a quiver of guilt to it, as though he felt that it was his fault that this happened to Harry at all. “Can we take him home?”

“Harry knows all about you two,” Albus supplied, but by his sombre tone, Remus supposed that Albus was about to say _no_. “However, his inability to cope with too many people and too many new things all at once is making it difficult to get him to allow many visitors. Perkins has suggested, and I agree, that a Support Alpha may be a more ideal arrangement to calm Harry's mind, and reinforce that he is safe before he meets you two, and settles into some sort of semblance of a family life, something Harry, too, seems quite eager to try.

“I took the liberty of collecting scents of single alphas whom I trust, and passed them on to Perkins for Harry to try,” Albus continued, and Sirius smiled weakly, as though something was funny about Albus's statement.

“So, it won't be Remus, then,” Sirius tried to joke, but the jest fell rather flat, and Remus smiled weakly at his mate.

Remus knew that Support Alphas had a difficult job; they used scent, touch, and closeness to help traumatized omegas find their feet again. Some partnerships lasted a year or more, and while it did not _always_ include sex, it often did as a mean to alleviate heat pain, and sometimes the sex would evolve into a mating, though that was incredibly rare.

In truth, Remus did not like the idea of _anyone_ touching Harry after what had happened, regardless how well-vetted Support Alphas had to be. The omegas who needed this sort of support needed an alpha of respectable means, of sound mind and body, who was prepared to tend to _every_ need of their supporté—that could mean holding them through nightmares, rounds of potion, healer and mind healer visits, specialized food in some cases, and the preparation for the unpredictable—traumatized omegas could be violent, so anxious that they were often sick for no reason, and a veritable mountain of unplanned-for scenarios that could come up during the healing process. It was not an easy job.

If Harry needed it, his suffering at Macnair's hands had to be even worse than Remus could ever imagine.

“Has he...chosen someone yet?” Remus ventured, and Albus nodded his head.

“He has.”

“Well?” Sirius demanded, “who is it?”

Instead of answering, Albus tilted his head back slightly and called, “you may enter now.”

 

The door from the spiral staircase opened, and to Remus's shock and Sirius's fury, in swept the last person either man would ever trust with a traumatized omega's well-being.

Severus Snape.

 

 


	2. Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi, guys! Thank you so much for your interest in this fic so far. Here is the first full chapter, and as I said on the prologue, after this we move to biweekly updates, so the next one is scheduled for June 23rd. I know that feels like a long wait, but for me it's insurance to make sure that I finish the updates on time, have them beta'd and edited and all the rest. Enjoy! Please note that 99% of the warnings are related to flashbacks, and not stuff that happens explicitly in this chapter.
> 
> **Content/Trigger Warning: Ableist Language, Implied Miscarriage, Referenced Rape, Referenced Physical/Emotional Abuse, Anxiety Attack, Dissociation, Implied Serial Murder, Referenced Abortion, Implied Pædophilia, Implied Child Murder**

Chapter One – Scent

 

Harry sat out in the back garden of the clinic, gazing about at the verdure around him. He never thought he'd ever see so much green, so much _beauty_ ever again. As a result, every day Harry spent at the clinic he was outside in the gardens, admiring each and every leaf and petal that he could see.

Harry's fingers danced over the silken petals of a yellow rose, and he smiled a little, revelling in the feeling of it. Even at a distance he could smell the sweetness of the bloom, and though Harry was half tempted to pick it, bring it to his nose, and savour the scent, he couldn't do that, knowing that such an act would kill it.

Harry shifted his eyes upwards, and gazed at the wide expanse of blue sky. He breathed out a small sigh. _Fresh air_.

Harry had found that focusing on these small things made it easier to divert his attention away from all that had happened, and all that was still to come.

As Harry sat there in the grass, he recalled the old man, the one who had informed him that he was a wizard (which made no sense to Harry at all). He thought of the doctors—no, healers, he remembered them being called—taking him from hospital and to this special loony bin in the country, full of people like him—people who got upset if someone even _breathed_ too suddenly near them. He thought of that fellow—Something Black, who stormed the clinic, shouting obscenities, who the healers would not let Harry go near. His angry shouts had terrified all the patients, himself included.

Like so many of the others, Harry could no longer stomach the sound of a man yelling, regardless of what their designation might be, and had been quick to hide under his bed in a bid to escape the sound, though it hadn't helped very much.

When Harry asked timidly who the man was, the healers never had a proper answer for him, and often appeared as though they had _no idea_ what to say.

 

Despite everything that had happened since his rescue, even the bad parts, Harry didn't mind the clinic so much. It was pleasant here; he was looked after by people who genuinely _cared_ , and who wanted to help him get better without any sort of pressure to do anything he didn't want to do.

Like the prospect of meeting his family—or god-family, or whatever it was.

It was nice to know he had a family waiting for him, but the prospect of seeing them like _this_ , when he barely knew which way was up, was terrifying.

When he was presented with the offer of being given some time to right his brain first in the home of someone like a Support Alpha, well, the choice appeared obvious not just to Harry, but to everyone else as well.

Or so it seemed, until Harry had selected the scent he liked best, and then everyone acted like he'd chosen Hitler or something.

Or whatever the Wizard equivalent might be.

 

“Mr Potter, are you _certain_?” one healer asked.

“Mr Potter, oh, maybe you should try again...” said another.

“Mr Potter, maybe the scents are mixed up, here, try another one...” added another.

 

But again and again, Harry selected the same alpha.

Harry sighed as he looked back to the flower bed from his seat in the grass. He'd really _liked_ the scent of the alpha he'd picked; why was everyone so freaked out about it? He had smelled like sandalwood, old books, and autumn leaves. Like the smell before rain, and freshly baked bread, and the sharp scent of something chemical—paint, maybe.

Harry still remembered the scent with absolute clarity, and it made him feel so _warm_ inside, like he knew this alpha would be everything that Macnair wasn't.

_Or maybe it's the_ other thing _..._ Harry mused, and dropped his gaze to his stomach.

Harry smoothed his hand over the slight swell, and shivered. The healers had told him that he was four months along, and unlike _before_ , this time he did not hope for a miscarriage.

_Don't think about that,_ Harry thought, clenching his eyes shut, and he inhaled shakily. _Can't fall apart. I need to keep it together._

Harry wasn't completely certain who exactly he needed to keep it together for—his unborn child, his mysterious Support Alpha, or himself. They hadn't told him the name of the alpha, and appeared vaguely nervous whenever Harry tried to ask. They all seemed more focused on _him_. They gave Harry nutritious but light meals to both get his weight back up and keep his stomach settled; they provided him with potions that were supposed to be full of vitamins and minerals, both for him as well as the baby.

Harry touched his stomach again as he remembered his time with Macnair. It was terrible, especially after the first six years of his ten years in Macnair's hands, when at sixteen, he'd had his first heat.

Macnair had seen it as an opening that his captive was ready for mating, much to Harry's horror. Macnair took him to bed and made him _hurt_. He made him cry. He hit and verbally berated Harry for his tears, telling him over and over again that he should be _grateful_ that Macnair had such _low standards_ for a mate like him.

But Harry had never mated with him—not in the true sense. The bites never took, and when they healed, Harry's skin was always unmarked and smooth.

That _enraged_ Macnair. His fury was terrifying, and it only got worse when Harry couldn't get pregnant at his hands, or lost the baby due to Macnair's frequent beatings.

It was always _Harry's_ fault.

“ _Harry, are you with me?_ ”

The voice startled Harry from his thoughts, and he inhaled sharply, jumping back from Gemma, his mind healer, who had been crouched down in front of him, about a foot away.

“S-Sorry,” Harry muttered, breathing hard as though he'd been running. “Got...lost.”

The beta scent of the young woman was calming; it always was. It never felt like she was pulling Harry's instincts in one direction or the other, which was one of the benefits of her designation. In addition to the calming scent, she bore a sweet, friendly smile, as though Harry _hadn't_ just been almost lost to another panic attack.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she reassured him, careful to not touch him, which Harry was grateful for. He didn't think he'd be able to handle being touched right now. “I just came by to tell you that your Support Alpha is here. He has to sign some paperwork, then he'll be out to meet with you. If you are still content with your choice, he'll take you home in a few days.”

_Home._

Harry'd never had one of _those_ before.

“Okay,” Harry said, nodding his head, and the healer regarded him uncertainly, as though she almost didn't believe that he was ready for this, and Harry gritted his teeth in annoyance.

Harry almost wanted to ask what everyone thought was _wrong_ with this alpha. Why was everyone being so _weird_ about him? Or was it Harry, who was so wrong? Was he not good enough for the support he'd chosen? Was he not sick enough?

He didn't understand it.

Harry felt his nervousness mount, and he pulled his knees up to his chest as he watched the healer walk away from him and back towards the clinic's main building. She glanced back several times, as though to check on Harry, but she never stopped to speak to him, and eventually she disappeared back inside.

Harry concentrated on his breathing, though it still escaped him in sharp pants as it occurred to him that this was the _first time_ he'd be near an alpha since his rescue.

He knew the _facts,_ and Harry tried to remember them as he waited.

Support Alphas were vetted extensively prior to even being allowed on the clinic's premises. They had numerous psychological evaluations (though they called it something different—legi-something, Harry couldn't remember), and they were paid a stipend by the government to adequately care for someone like Harry. There were check-ups for Harry and the Support Alpha, both in the clinic and at the Support Alpha's home, and the Support Alphas were given potion to force them to be truthful during such evaluations. They had to take rut suppressants to ensure that they did not hurt the omega in their care, and the only time sexual contact was allowed was if the omega was in heat, given how painful it could be. However, the Support Alpha _must_ take contraceptives, as a pregnancy was considered a major violation to the rights of the recovering omega.

No matter how much this alpha might want to be deceptive and do something horrible to Harry, the clinic made it virtually impossible to do so.

That in itself was a small comfort.

 

Quite abruptly, the strong scent of _alpha_ invaded Harry's senses, making him jump a little, and he was wrenched from his thoughts in an instant.

The alpha in question smelt nice, but the scent was still startling. In the little vials the old man had given him, the scent was vaguely stale, but now it was strong and fresh.

Hesitantly, Harry looked up.

Harry had not known what he'd expected, but he'd at least hoped that his Support Alpha would look nice, or friendly.

The man who stood there was neither of those things.

He was tall and slender, with hair to his shoulders in a black curtain. His black eyes were sharp, and his hooked nose made Harry think of birds of prey. He wasn't unattractive, but neither could Harry say that he was _handsome_.

Striking, that's what he was.

“Er, Harry,” Gemma said, almost nervously, “this is Professor Severus Snape. He is your Support Alpha.”

Severus jerked his head in a curt nod, as though he'd rather not be here, but after a moment, the older man seemed to remember his manners, and offered Harry a short, “good afternoon, Potter.”

Harry rolled his shoulders, not liking how the alpha said his last name— _Potter_. Like one might spit out a curse.

“Er...afternoon,” Harry replied without moving from his curled up position on the ground. It was hard to keep his legs tucked to his chest with his pregnant stomach in the way, but somehow, he managed it.

“Leave us,” Severus instructed Gemma, “I wish to speak to Potter privately.”

The mind healer hastened to obey, and she all but ran from the garden.

In an instant, Severus's entire demeanour seemed to soften. His shoulders relaxed, his eyes lost some of their sharpness, and he let out a little breath.

Severus strode forward, and Harry tensed. The alpha stopped, as though he noticed Harry's reaction.

“Breathe, Harry,” Severus instructed, his voice a muddled mixture of a command and what may have been a means to calm him. The alpha tilted his head to the side, almost supplicant, and Harry was gifted with another blast of _that scent_.

Harry felt himself relax a little, though he continued to eye Severus uncertainly.

“Come and scent me, Harry,” he encouraged, “it will calm you.”

Harry did not move immediately but instead regarded Severus uncertainly. Why was he acting so differently now?

“I have an image to maintain, Harry,” Severus said, as though he'd heard Harry's thoughts. “I am not what most people would consider _nice_ , and I have little patience for idiocy or foolishness. However, you, more than anyone else, have nothing to fear of me.”

From almost anyone else, Harry would have expected someone to finish such a speech with a friendly smile—some sort of outward sign that he truly meant Harry no harm.

In contrast, Severus's expression never changed, and he spoke with a smooth, velvet tone. It was calming in its own way, and despite the significant lack of warmth in the alpha's voice, Harry knew one thing for certain, he could feel it in his very bones—

Harry could _trust_ him.

Slowly, haltingly, Harry unfolded himself. Severus did not move, though his eyes did drop to Harry's slightly distended stomach.

Harry took a small step forward. Severus nodded, his body language open and welcoming, though Harry had a feeling that such a thing was rare for this man.

Harry continued to move forward, freezing after every step, but despite the fact that it took Harry a long time to approach him, Severus never moved.

Harry stopped in front of Severus, and Severus lowered his arms, though he did not touch Harry.

“Scent me, Harry,” Severus murmured encouragingly, his voice little more than a soft purr, “I will not harm you.”

Harry obeyed, moving with the same halting, almost stuttering movements, until his face lowered to the crook of Severus's throat, and he fixed his attention upon Severus's scent gland.

Beyond all the scents that made up what Harry knew about the alpha—which, in truth, wasn't very much—as he bowed his head and scented him, a new sensation washed over him.

Perfect calm.

“That's it,” Severus encouraged, his voice soft, even, like the constant flow of a river, “let your mind still—you are safe.”

A hand fell to the small of Harry's back, and his breath hitched. He knew that it was Severus, and though the touch did startle him, at the same time it was oddly reassuring. He wasn't being held in place, like Macnair may have done—he was being held gently in a calming embrace, not being pinned.

Harry rested his head on Severus's shoulder in order to breathe in more of Severus's wonderful scent. He was almost drunk on it, but did not mind in the least—here, he was safe.

“You...smell good,” Harry ventured, his voice soft, and Severus chuckled.

“I know,” he said, “but I will only smell pleasant to one like you.”

“Like...me?”

“An omega with a compatible scent,” Severus explained, his head tilting forward to brush his nose across Harry's cheek, touching him with his scent; marking him.

“Does that mean we... _have_ to mate?” Harry asked, and shivered involuntarily, his thoughts returning to Macnair in an instant.

“No, Harry,” Severus replied, “I am your Support Alpha, not a prospective mate. You have no obligations to me. I am here to help you heal, nothing more.”

“Are you this nice to everyone?”

“Absolutely not,” Severus replied, his tone firm, and showing that Severus was not joking. “Precious few have seen this side of me. If you choose to tell anyone of this _niceness_ , I shall never forgive you.”

Harry giggled, and Severus smiled faintly.

 

~*~

 

Severus left a few hours later, allowing Harry time and space to think on whether to consent or reject him as his prospective Support Alpha.

Harry sat in his bedroom, his eyes on the window, and the world beyond.

From here, Harry had a view of the back of the clinic, and to the gardens where he'd spent much of his afternoon with Severus. He could still smell the alpha on his clothing, if only faintly, and it was just as calming as it had been before. It helped Harry to not think of Macnair.

Harry thought to his room _there_ , and shivered.

Here, in the clinic, Harry had a real bed, with thick, warm blankets, and central heating (or whatever the wizard equivalent was). He had three meals per day, along with as many mid-meal snacks that he wanted. He wasn't tied up at night, he could wear proper clothes, and he didn't have to watch his caretaker bury bodies in the back garden.

Harry felt a dizzy wave of sickness nearly overwhelm him, the last thought jerking him directly into the middle of the memories he wanted so desperately to forget.

 

“ _Get back inside, Omega! Unless you want to take a nap next to this one!”_

 

Harry shuddered, drawn out of his thoughts by a soft tapping upon his bedroom door. He looked up, and saw Gemma poking her head inside.

“Harry?” she asked kindly, “The charms we have on the patient rooms went off for you...may I come in?”

“I s'pose,” Harry replied, shrugging a little, not quite willing to look at her as he tried to calm his breathing. Harry picked at a loose thread on the duvet and listened to Gemma step inside the room, keeping a close eye on her in his peripheral vision, just in case.

“May I close the door, Harry?”

“Why do you ask that _every_ time?” Harry groused, finally snapping his gaze up to her, but her pleasant smile never wavered.

“Does it make you uncomfortable that I ask, Harry?” she asked patiently, and Harry shook his head.

“No, I guess I just don't understand why you bother asking. Alpha—er, I mean...M-Macnair never did. And, yes, you can close it, I suppose.”

Harry shivered, disgusted with himself for faltering on his captor's name. He could say it in his head _all_ the time—was was verbalising it so _hard_?

“Given the sorts of ordeals many of our patients experienced, sometimes even small requests of consent help them to feel better,” Gemma explained patiently as she shut the door quietly behind her. “If it makes you uncomfortable, of course we will stop, but our goal is to give you room to find your strength again, not inhibit it by making it seem like we can enter your safe space whenever we feel like it.”

“I suppose that makes sense...” Harry mumbled as she stepped forward, washing Harry once more in her calming beta scent. “It still feels weird, though.”

“Why does it feel weird?” she asked, while Harry motioned for her to sit before she could ask _permission_ , and she sat down on his desk chair.

“I dunno, it just _does,_ ” Harry replied, his tone snappish, and he immediately winced. “Sorry. I guess I'm just a little...messed up after today. I really liked that Support Alpha, I sort of miss his scent. It was...relaxing.”

“Oh, only you could be in the presence of _Severus Snape_ and feel calmed,” Gemma said with a warm laugh that made Harry flush. “I do not mean that negatively, Harry. He is a...er... _challenging_ person to know.”

“Why's that?” Harry asked, his gaze dropping to his bedspread again, and he picked at it a little as he sat there. “He seemed pretty nice to me.”

“Professor Snape...he...well...” Gemma trailed off, and winced. Harry got the impression that she was trying to tell him that Severus was some kind of arsehole, but in the most professional way that she could manage. “He is a very private person, and he has little patience for unintelligent people. Many of his current and former students have horror stories of his classroom attitude. I've been told he's become a little better in recent years, but unless you were in Slytherin House, you couldn't expect him to treat you fairly, though it never reflected in his marking, as far as I know. Just in his Slytherin favouritism.”

“Oh.”

Harry frowned, and squirmed in his spot on the bed. He thought therapists—or mind healers, in this case—were supposed to make him feel better, not make him feel _worse._ Apparently sensing her mistake, Gemma smiled at him apologetically.

“I don't mean to sound harsh,” she said, “I was a Gryffindor, and we were often rivals of Slytherin. But, Harry, you have no reason in the world to worry about Professor Snape—he is a Support Alpha, and he takes this sort of work very seriously. We would not allow you to go with him if we felt that you would be in any sort of danger, both emotional or physical.”

“You don't sound harsh,” Harry offered, “It just sounds...like he doesn't care if his students like him.”

“That is a very kind way to put it,” Gemma said with a warm chuckle. “Now...would you like to talk about what has you so upset?”

“I'm not upset,” Harry said quickly, perhaps a little _too_ quickly, if the way Gemma eyed him was any indication.

“I won't force you to talk, Harry,” she said gently, “that would not be fair to you. However, I do think it would make you feel better to tell me what is on your mind. I'm here to help you—I will never think less of you because of what you are thinking or feeling—or what you went through.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, but he did not immediately answer as he directed his gaze to his lap.

Not judging him for his thoughts and feelings Harry could understand, but what he _went through_?

Who _wouldn't_ think of him as a disgusting little whore for _that_?

Who at this clinic would look at him the same way if they knew every disgusting detail of what he'd done? Of bartering his body for basic things like toothpaste and food? A radio, so that he wouldn't lose his mind from loneliness? _Praying_ every night for a miscarriage so that he would not have to give birth by himself in that lonely little room, or, worse, nearly killing himself by shoving implements into his arse in an attempt to perform an abortion when he couldn't find any bleach to drink? Watching Macnair, unable to help as he raped and murdered young boys before he buried them under the flower beds of his nice, normal little home?

Harry fought back a wave of sick as he thought of it all—ten years of absolute _hell_.

He should have been in school, making friends, _studying—_ hell, he even would have taken his horrid relatives and his cupboard over what Macnair had done to him. How could anyone _look_ at him and not be disgusted?

“Harry?” Gemma asked, her voice gentle and unassuming. “Do you know where you are?”

Harry's head snapped up, and he saw his mind healer bowed forward slightly, her brow knitted with concern.

“S-Sorry,” he panted, fisting his duvet tightly. “I—I got lost.”

“I think I may have something that might help,” she said with a small smile. “Just wait a moment, I will be right back.”

Harry opened his mouth to ask where she was going, but already she was up and out of the room.

She returned almost as quickly, bearing a cloth bag in her hands. She was smiling, though the expression was uncertain, as though she did not know whether or not she was doing the right thing.

“Here,” she said, handing the bag over. “This may help to calm your mind for the night.”

His brow pinched with curiosity, Harry untied the knot that was keeping it closed, and immediately he was overwhelmed by the strong alpha scent of Severus, even before he could fully grasp what he was seeing.

A simple quilt in country browns and creams. It smelled strongly of Severus, and when Harry pulled it out and wrapped it around himself, he felt his mind calm, like he was being embraced by a loved one.

“Thank you,” Harry said, his voice soft, and carrying something close to a contented purr—that of a happy omega.

Gemma smiled, and took her leave.

Harry settled down at last, looking forward to the next time he would be able to not just smell his support alpha, but see him as well.

Harry could hardly wait.

 


	3. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for July 7th. My beta is on vacation this week, so I did my best on my own. Please let me know of any major errors so I can fix them. Enjoy! :)
> 
> **Trigger Warning: Implied/Referenced Child Murder, Implied/Referenced Pædophilia, Anxiety Attack, Dissociation, Implied Confinement, Flashbacks, Implied Torture**

 

Chapter Two – Home

 

Two days after receiving the quilt, Harry was finally allowed to leave the clinic for his Support Alpha's house.

Harry would be taking with him a small rucksack, which had been packed with the few changes of clothing he'd been given at the clinic. In addition, he'd packed his potion doses and paperwork, which listed in detail what Harry could expect from his time with the Support Alpha, and what would be considered inappropriate behaviour, should such a thing arise.

Harry got the impression that they weren't _supposed_ to hand out this sort of paperwork, but everyone seemed doubly paranoid about passing Harry from the clinic and into the care of Severus Snape. As a result, Harry had been gifted with special treatment at almost every turn, which he couldn't decide whether it was a blessing, or a curse.

Or, perhaps, Harry's eagerness was the source of the concern for the healers. Apparently, he was supposed to be much more reluctant to trust people whom he did not know.

Harry smiled idly at that; perhaps Harry was being foolish, but Severus _smelled_ like someone whom he could trust.

Harry smiled to himself as he double-checked his rucksack, counting out all the clothes he'd been given since arriving at the clinic, his potions, the papers, as well as an empty leather-bound journal that Gemma had given him.

Harry knew that he was supposed to be using the journal as a coping tool in order to deal with what had happened, but the idea of writing down what had happened, and reliving it in that way left him feeling sort of sick.

Or maybe that was from the baby.

Harry tightened the quilt around himself. He wasn't entirely certain when he'd pulled it out or when he wrapped it around his body like a shawl, but it made him feel so _safe._ Harry nuzzled the edge of it, bathing in Severus's scent, and he let out a little sigh.

He couldn't _wait_ to see Severus again.

 

Harry decided that he didn't care much if he looked foolish, and walked from his room with his rucksack on his back, and the quilt wound around him. In truth, he didn't look much different than the other patients that occupied the clinic. Most of them favoured soft blankets and pyjamas over proper clothes, and Harry, like them, would much rather feel safe than look _posh_.

“Ah, Harry, there you are,” Gemma said with a warm smile as he meandered towards the front desk, just inside the doors of the building. “I was just about to come fetch you. The car is almost here.”

“Car?” Harry asked, blinking in confusion. “Isn't there some sort of...I dunno... _magic_ way to get me there?”

“There are a few ways,” Gemma replied, nodding once as she smiled at him again. “Apparition or Portkeys—that is, teleporting, if you wish to use the more muggle term—travel by fire using something we call Floo Powder, and travel by broom are the most common.

“However, given your current...erm... _state_ , Floo, Apparition, or Portkey could cause complications with your pregnancy, and broom travel is not recommended, given the risk of falling and those sorts of things. For your safety, it's better to travel in a more mundane way.”

“Oh.”

Harry lowered his gaze, fixing his eyes on the flagstone floor, and he tried to figure out what he was feeling. Ever since he'd gotten here, he'd felt so odd about this whole _wizard_ business. He'd thought only Macnair had that sort of horrible power, and to learn that he, too, was a wizard was so _confusing_ _._ If that was true, why could he never _stop_ Macnair from doing all those horrible things to him? To those boys?

_Maybe I'm just a really weak wizard,_ Harry mused, while he heard himself say, “how long will the drive be?”

“About an hour,” Gemma said. “Professor Snape lives in the country—lots of open space.”

Harry nodded, though his thoughts were still fixed upon his internal musings. Not for the first time, he wondered if the people here had made some sort of terrible mistake. _How_ could he be a wizard? It made no sense.

Harry tightened the quilt around him, but the calming scent of his Support Alpha did little to quell the ache in his chest.

 

~*~

 

The car turned out to be some sort of large, green van.

Harry climbed into the back, his eyes downcast. The driver was a man who smelled like a beta, young, maybe Harry's age, with red hair.

“All right?” he asked, smiling at Harry in the rear view mirror. “I'm Ron.”

“Harry,” Harry replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He could feel nervousness clawing at the edges of his mind, something close to panic as his thoughts began to run wild.

 

_Was this Ron person just going to kidnap me, and not take me to Severus?_

_Was getting into the van just another stupid decision?_

_Was this even the_ right _van?_

 

“Hey, mate, you with me?” he heard Ron ask. “Blimey, hang on...”

Harry glanced up, just in time to see the redhead leap from the vehicle and rush towards the clinic, his long arms waving like some sort of pinwheel.

With perspiration dotting his forehead, Harry watched Ron hurry inside, then he came out again with his mind healer in tow. Ron looked panicked, not unlike someone who felt as though they'd made some sort of huge mistake, while Gemma's expression was calmer as the pair raced back towards the van.

“Harry, are you with us?” Gemma asked the moment she opened the sliding door, and he nodded mutely.

“I...got lost,” Harry admitted awkwardly, not quite willing to admit that he'd gotten _scared_ , despite how obvious it was. He didn't quite know why, but he didn't want to seem like a weak little flower in front of this Ron person.

“Would you like me to ride with you and Ron to your Support's home?” she asked gently. “Ron is a good man, and you'll probably be seeing a lot of him over the next few months.”

“Why's that?”

“I've been assigned as your driver to take you to all your appointments,” he explained proudly, “and my girlfriend was assigned as your tutor to catch you up on everything.”

“What sort of everything?”

“I suppose you don't remember,” Gemma said kindly, “but it was mentioned to you not long after you were admitted to the clinic—we assign tutors to those who need it to catch them up on schooling they may have missed. Once you are settled, Miss Granger will come to call a few times a week to teach you everything you may have missed at Hogwarts.”

“Except probably Potions,” Ron grumbled sourly, and Gemma shot him a warning look, which he pointedly ignored. “My girlfriend's dead clever, though. She was top of our year and everything. She makes me look like a half-dead slug, let me tell you. You'll probably like her.”

Harry nodded, not quite certain what else he could say. Belatedly, he realized that he hadn't answered Gemma's question from earlier, and in a panic he worried that she might leave him again. When he looked up however, he saw Gemma climbing into the van next to him with a warm smile, while Ron carefully shut the door and returned to the driver's seat.

The drive was mostly quiet. Harry watched the suburban landscape zip by, while Ron posed a few friendly, unassuming questions, though when it appeared as though Harry wasn't up for conversation he dropped it, and went back to driving.

Harry counted the minutes on the digital clock upon the dashboard, his head resting against the window, and the tarmac beneath the vehicle's wheels made his glasses rattle faintly. He was still curled up in his quilt like some sort of portable nest, not saying much of anything, but he did feel marginally calmer with Gemma in the vehicle with him. She was chatting idly with Ron about something called _Kwidditch_ , and Harpies, and someone called Ginny. Ron seemed quite enthused by the choice of topic, but Harry wasn't really listening, and only caught snatches of it while he watched the world pass him by.

Harry tucked himself farther into the quilt, and hoped that they would arrive soon.

 

~*~

 

The house, thankfully, reminded Harry of nothing bad.

Though he hadn't said as explicitly to his mind healer, his chief worry with going to a _house_ was that it would somehow remind him of Macnair's residence—white aluminium siding, a brick chimney that clashed with the rest of the house, and flowerbeds full of weeds and dandelions.

Severus's house was not like that.

The closest neighbour was several kilometres away, and Severus's home was a beautiful cobblestone building that could have easily been a few hundred years old. All the flowerbeds had been tended to with the care of a devoted gardener, and though Harry did not know enough about flowers to name most of them, but he did know that the blooms were absolutely breathtaking.

Behind the house, Harry could see the edges of a greenhouse, chicken coop, and small barn before it gave way to a wide open meadow, and then faded distantly into a small, dense wood. Harry could see all sorts of animals flitting in and out of the towering grasses, including hare, pheasant, and deer.

“Wow,” Harry breathed before he even realized he was speaking, and Ron shot him a smirk.

“Yeah, wow,” he replied. “No clue how the git affords this place—”

“—Ronald,” Gemma interrupted, her voice heavy with warning, and the driver went quiet with a small huff.

“ _This_ is my new home?” Harry asked, peering out the window at the place, while a small tendril of fear began to mar his wonder. He wanted to believe that Severus's intentions were pure, and his only plan was to help Harry get better, but _could_ he trust someone who lived in a house like _this_? Would Severus make him earn his keep using his body, like Macnair had?

Quite suddenly, Harry wasn't so sure about this, and he nervously shrank away from the window.

“Harry, are you worried what Professor Snape will ask of you for staying here?” Gemma immediately asked, and Harry's gaze whipped to her, his eyes wide with surprise. How in _earth_ had she worked it out so quickly?

Mutely, Harry nodded.

“Harry,” Gemma said, smiling softly as she spoke. “I won't ask you to _calm down_ , or to _be reasonable_ , as some people might. I understand that it must be very frightening for you to share a home with an alpha whom you do not know very well. However, please remember that no one is forcing you to stay here. Your godfather and his alpha voiced an interest in taking you in almost the moment you were found, and we can annul this arrangement with no penalty for you.

“However, if you are unwilling to go to your family yet and truly wish to stay with Severus, I must then remind you that it is virtually impossible to fraud this system—we have spent years beyond count perfecting it in order to keep any form of abuse from occurring. Professor Snape was heavily vetted after you selected his scent, and he will _continue_ to be monitored to ensure that you are not just safe in his care, but _happy_. We will not just question him and you periodically on his treatment of you, but your feelings in the house as well. If we ever feel that you are being hurt at his hands, you will be taken from him. We treat the arrangement of a Support Alpha and their omega _very_ seriously, Harry, and we will not allow any harm to come to you.”

“Will you stay...just for a bit?” Harry asked uncertainly, _hating_ how frail and soft he sounded. “I—I mean, just to make sure he won't do anything?”

In spite of his fear, Harry tightened the quilt around himself, still reassured by Severus's scent.

“Of course,” she replied, smiling warmly. “Ron, would you mind waiting out here?”

“Yeah, course,” Ron replied, nodding a little, though he looked distinctly uncomfortable about something—but Harry had no idea what.

With a hand resting gently against his back, Gemma guided Harry out of the car and up the walkway. His steps were slow and uncertain, but the visible differences between Macnair's house and Severus's certainly helped. It reminded him of how kind Severus had been, and how _good_ he had smelt to Harry.

Despite these mental reassurances, the closer he got to the house, the more nervous Harry became. He crossed one arm across his protruding stomach, as though he expected someone to try and harm his unborn child, and he tried to keep his trembling to a minimum.

About halfway up the walk, the door opened, revealing Severus not in wizard's robes, but a tailored suit that looked _very_ good on him.

Harry could recall, if only vaguely, that his Uncle Vernon would always wear suits to look impressive, or to intimidate people. The fabric always stretched over his uncle's protruding stomach, bunching up in odd places, and in general made him look like a fat penguin.

In contrast, Severus looked _good_ in the suit, but not intimidating at all. It was a humanizing sort of attire; the last time Harry had seen him, he'd been wearing wizards' robes, which Harry thought did not do him any favours when it came to his appearance, and actually had reminded Harry of a very large bat.

But now...the sight of him was almost as calming as his scent.

“Professor Snape,” Gemma said, nodding her head in a polite greeting, “Harry was a little nervous, so he asked that I accompany him for a little while, until he becomes acclimated to his new home.”

“I see no problem with that,” Severus replied, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side, just enough that Harry was hit with a blast of alpha scent, calming him, but nowhere near enough to cloud his mind and make him feel as though he was out of control of his own faculties. “Would you like to come in, Harry?”

“Can I?”

“Would you _like_ to?” Severus repeated, curving a brow at Harry, as though to imply that if he truly did not wish to enter, he didn't have to.

This knowledge was wildly empowering to Harry, so much so that for a moment he felt dizzy, and swayed in place. Gemma was there in an instant to steady him, but Severus hung back, his gaze calculating, but not as cold as it could sometimes be.

“You're giving me a choice,” Harry said at last.

“Yes.”

“Whether to stay or go.”

“It is always your choice, Harry.”

“I...I like that,” Harry offered, smiling up at Severus, and he felt a gurgle of movement in his stomach, as though the baby was agreeing with him.

“Whenever you're ready, Harry,” Gemma said gently, her hand still at Harry's back, holding him, but not forcing him one way or the other.

Harry took a small, shaky step forward. Severus moved back, giving Harry space, and allowing him to head inside without feeling crowded.

As Harry stepped past the door's threshold, he found that the inside opened to a large space that held the front hall and sitting room, before extending into an open-concept dining room, and beyond that, a kitchen.

The floors were made of some sort of hardwood, the sitting room bearing numerous plush rugs, squashy armchairs, and a cream loveseat, along with a fireplace and numerous low, highly polished tables, most of which held some sort of house plant. The walls nearest to the fireplace were occupied by wooden bookcases crammed full of books, and the furniture that Harry could see in the dining room and beyond also looked very expensive and meticulously clean. The stairs that led to the second landing were also made of the same hardwood as the floor, and the walls both along the staircase as well as in the main area of the house were sparsely adorned with framed watercolour paintings of everything from hyper-realistic floral paintings to abstract pieces that Harry couldn't hope to decipher.

“What do you think, Harry?” Gemma asked softly, drawing Harry from his daze, and he shrugged feebly.

“It's nice. Smells like Severus.”

Harry had meant it as a compliment, but his words had come out flat, and both his Support Alpha and his mind healer exchanged a look, as though they expected Harry to back out of the arrangement at any moment.

“Er...aren't you supposed to show me the rest of your house, or something?” Harry prompted when neither of them moved, and Severus, though surprise showed in his eyes, he did not start, but reacted as though he expected such a response.

“Come, Harry,” he said smoothly, motioning with his hand towards the stairs, “let us begin with your room.”

“My room?” Harry asked as they began to walk, “don't you mean _your_ room?”

“No, I mean _your_ room,” Severus replied, though despite the lilt of his words, he did not sound annoyed with Harry. “You are welcome to share my room if you wish, Harry. It does aid some omegas to have the scent of their Support nearby when they sleep, but given your history, I had assumed that you would rather have a space that was just yours—a nest, so to speak.”

“Macnair never let me nest,” Harry said without really thinking, “nothing of his smelled good, anyway.”

“You may nest here with whatever materials you wish to use, Harry,” Severus said as they ascended the stairs, his face carefully set in a blank expression as he spoke. “Furthermore, you are allowed anywhere in the house, _save_ for my laboratory, which will be locked most of the time. I have many sensitive potions in there, most of which require protective spells or salves to work with, and I do not wish for you to hurt yourself. If you are curious, please _ask me_ , and I shall show you what I am working on, but I beg that you do not try to sneak in on your own.”

“Okay,” Harry replied, ducking his head a little, his eyes focused on the stairs. He could feel Severus and Gemma staring at him, but he didn't have it in him to look up.

The top of the stairs led to an open space that contained a number of rooms and store cupboards, most of which were open to display the interior of each space. From where Harry stood, he could see three bedrooms, a bathroom, a cupboard full of linens, and a fourth room, for which the door was firmly closed.

“That is my studio,” Severus said, motioning to the shut door. “I consider it private, but it is not strictly off-limits to you.” He paused, and offered Harry a rare smile. “Though you are perhaps the only person in this entire universe with such freedom—to everyone else, it is _absolutely_ restricted.”

“Do you draw or something?” Harry asked, recalling vaguely that studios were places people went to do art.

“Or something,” Severus replied vaguely, his eyes sliding to Gemma, though he did not explain the look, and merely continued with the tour.

“This,” Severus said, motioning to one of the open doors, “is your room.”

“I've never had a room before,” Harry said, his tone almost thoughtful as he stepped forward, and peered inside.

Harry's room was simply furnished, with a queen-sized bed layered with far too many blankets and piled high with pillows. There was a writing desk and wardrobe on the other side of the space, along with an enormous window that looked out on the back garden. A bathroom connected to the bedroom, giving Harry the option to hide away for as long as he needed, should such a thing arise.

Harry continued to look in, but he did not cross the threshold. It seemed nice, but if he went inside, what would stop Severus from locking him in and leaving him there?

“All the rooms of this house lock only from the inside, and have been treated with charmwork that repels most types of containment or breaching magic,” Severus explained, as though he sensed the root of Harry's anxiety. “Observe.”

He motioned to Gemma, and she nodded in understanding as she slipped past Harry and into the room before she shut the door, and Harry heard the lock click into place. Severus drew his wand, seemingly from nowhere, and pointed it at the door.

“ _Alohomora,_ ” he incanted.

Nothing happened.

“ _Bombarda_ ,” Severus said, and again, nothing happened. Severus tucked away his wand, and called out, “you may come out now.”

Gemma exited the room, smiling hopefully at Harry. The gesture was nice, but what would really stop Severus from barricading the door in another way? With rope, or a chair?

Harry shivered; he _hated_ being locked up.

Even before Macnair he hated it, but as with everything else, Macnair made it so much _worse_.

_The basement was worse than his cupboard. It wasn't just small, but dark and dank. No light could penetrate it, and Harry had to feel his way to his bucket to relieve himself. Macnair had put him in here because he refused to help—refused to join in on his_ fun _._

_He made Harry pay for it in blood._

_But not his own._

_The body had not begun to smell yet, but even in the pitch-black, Harry could almost feel its presence. A little boy, no older than five. His still form almost mocked Harry, pleading, “why didn't you save me?”_

_Why couldn't he save anyone?_

 

Harry was drawn out of the terrible memory by a scent. A good scent. It was alpha, but it was _good_.

Harry opened his eyes.

His face was dipped into the crook of a throat, and he was being rocked. The motion was calming, and though he wanted to feel anger at being held like this—like a _child—_ he couldn't muster up any sort of rage.

Instead, he let out a soft, mournful sob.

“Shh, Harry,” Severus whispered, rubbing his back while he coaxed Harry's face back into the crook of his neck, offering his scent to him freely. “I have you, you're safe. No one will hurt you ever again.”

Harry clung to Severus, his tears dampening the alpha's suit. He wished he could believe his Support, but how could he ever feel safe again?

Harry let out another small sob, and he hugged Severus tightly. He hushed him, a hand at his back, and he allowed Harry to cry.

 


	4. Listening to Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'M LATE I'M SORRY ;_; busy week paired with my recently adopted 3-month old kitten who is a little demon means I had less time than usual to write. This chapter is shorter than I'd like, but I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. Next update is scheduled July 21st. 
> 
> **Content Warning: Implied Past Abuse, PTSD, Anxiety**

Chapter Three – Listening to Fear

 

Harry did not know how long he cried. Severus never protested it—he didn't lose his patience like Macnair may have. He never pushed Harry away with disgust, and he never hit him. 

“It's all right, Harry,” Severus murmured, his hand stroking up and down his back, though he stopped when Harry tensed, and dropped his arm. “You're safe; no one will hurt you ever again. I will protect you.”

Harry let out a soft whine, and clung tighter to Severus. He felt like a newborn kitten; weak, helpless, and crying out for someone to help him. His memories of all that had happened made his fear even worse.  _ Everything _ was frightening. Everyone at the clinic had told Harry how  _ strong  _ and how  _ brave  _ he had been for enduring what he had, but Harry did not feel strong.

He was  _ weak _ . If he had been strong, he would have been able to stop Macnair. The fact that he hadn't be able to only  _ proved _ his weakness. 

Harry inhaled slowly as he tried to calm himself down. Despite his best efforts, his breath still rattled like a dying animal's. 

Severus tightened his hold on the omega, and yet somehow never made it feel as though he was trying to confine Harry's movements. The omega heard a soft rustle, and he chanced a peek out of the safety of Severus's embrace. 

Severus was manipulating Harry's quilt with his wand. He was lifting it and moving it until Severus was satisfied with its position, before he brought it forward and it coiled around them both like a cloak. 

The presence of the quilt seemed to make the scent of Severus grow stronger, and the soft material was pleasant against Harry's skin. 

Soft. Plush.  _ Good. _

Harry whimpered again, confusion beginning to eclipse his fear. He didn't know what he was supposed to be doing or feeling; he couldn't remember. 

“I...I can't remember what happened,” Harry mumbled into the alpha's neck, still clinging to Severus like a lifeline. Severus touched his back consolingly, and this time Harry did not flinch. 

“You came to my home—your new home—with your mind healer, Harry,” Severus murmured, his voice soft and gentle, but felt like velvet. “I was showing you the house; do you remember that? We ascended to the second floor, and I was demonstrating to you how the door to your bedroom was impervious to magic. It upset you, and we lost you for a moment.”

“I—I...” Harry trailed off, his explanation caught in his throat, and he shook his head. Severus had spoken so smoothly, but Harry could still hear the apprehension in his words, as though he was afraid of upsetting Harry again. “I don't like being locked in places.”

“We can remedy that, I think,” Severus replied, petting Harry's hair for a moment before he pulled back a little, just enough for Harry to see that they were in Severus's bedroom, evidenced by the larger bed and the darker colour choices—a deep green bedspread, and dark wooden furniture decorated the room. The dresser by the window bore a tall orchid in a narrow black pot with almost a dozen blooms on the stems, and the white petals looked like they had been splattered with fuchsia paint. Despite the flickering edges of a memory threatening him, Harry curiously did not feel frightened by being in this space, though he did not know why. “I have an idea for how you can perhaps feel more confident in using it, however you may spend your nights elsewhere if you prefer—I shall not force you to sleep in there if you truly do not wish to.”

“What's your idea?” Harry asked hesitantly, caught between the desire to hear what Severus had in mind, and the burning  _ need  _ to never go near that room again. Despite this, he desperately wanted to please Severus.

He didn't want to give the alpha any reason to hurt him. 

Severus did not immediately answer as he coaxed Harry to his feet, and while they walked, he began to explain, “I will remove the door from your room, thus inhibiting anyone from shutting it on you. We can put it back whenever you're ready, and I will have a folding screen brought up for you in the meantime, to change clothes.” 

“What's a...a folding screen?” Harry asked hesitantly, and Severus's mouth twitched into a slight smirk, as though he found Harry's lack of knowledge somehow endearing.

“It is as I said—a folding screen,” Severus explained patiently. “It is something one uses to change clothes behind. Fairly old-fashioned in design, but it serves its purpose well, and enables you to keep from worrying that you are being gazed upon while you are...indecent.” 

“Oh.” Harry paused and bit his lip, trying to think of ways someone might be able to manipulate the scenario. If Severus wanted to spy on him, surely Harry would be able to notice? These wizard types seemed  _ awfully  _ keen on magic, though. Could Severus turn himself invisible, or did he have something that  _ made  _ him invisible, like an invisibility...blanket?

“Harry?” Severus prompted, his tone as gentle and unassuming as ever, but smooth like chocolate. It drew Harry effectively from his bubble of thought, and he glanced up at Severus with his lower lip caught between his teeth. 

“I want to trust you,” Harry said, intending to continue his statement, but his fear won out, and he fell silent, tensing, and waiting for the blows to come. Certainly no alpha, no matter if he was a support or not, would abide an omega openly mistrusting him like this?

“You want to trust me, but you can't—is that what you mean, Harry?”

Mutely, Harry nodded. He'd begun to tremble, the pain of waiting for Severus to react like Macnair was almost too much for him—he felt sick. 

Severus, seemingly sensing Harry's fear, did not react to it. He merely opened his arms, the gesture welcoming as he said, “would you like to scent me, Harry? It may help to calm you. I have no ill intentions, and my only desire is to see you well again. I know it may be hard for you to believe after all that you have been through, and what you need now is  _ time  _ in order to see that my will is true. In that, I have no expectations, Harry. You are here to heal, not feel forced by any one party. You may take all the time you need to get to that point, and if you feel that it is too stressful to be here, you may by all means go back to the clinic—I shall not hold you here.”

“I want to do this, I know it will h-help me,” Harry murmured. “I know that you're watched by people to make sure I'm not hurt, and I know that—all of that. It's like...I know it, but part of my brain doesn't really believe it?”

“What shall help you to believe it, Harry?” Severus asked softly, while Harry inched closer, still tightly wrapped up in his quilt, but the closeness of Severus, almost near enough to touch, was oddly calming in itself. How was it that he could fear a man and want to bury himself in his scent with equal need?

“I...I don't know.”

“Would you like to see my garden?” Severus inquired, “as a Potioneer as well as a professor, my gardens are quite extensive. As I recall, you were rather fond of the ones at the clinic.”

“I like...open spaces,” Harry explained awkwardly, not looking at Severus as he spoke, and instead he directed his words to his feet. “It feels like I can breathe. It's not like The Room.”

“You are referring to where  _ he  _ kept you?” Severus asked, blessedly not using Macnair's name, and Harry nodded mutely. 

“It was so small,” Harry said as he recalled it, and shivered. “He only took me out for...for...”

Harry broke off, and he felt his throat close in upon itself. He struggled for breath, and Severus hushed him softly, moving closer so that his scent was stronger, but he did not touch him, allowing Harry to make the choice whether he wanted to be touched or not. 

Unable to fight the need for protection any longer, Harry let out a little sob as he tucked himself into Severus's embrace, his face buried in his neck while the alpha coiled his arms around Harry gently, shushing him while he rubbed his back.

“It's all right, Harry, he's gone, he can't hurt you anymore,” Severus whispered into his hair. “No one can harm you whilst I am here, remember that. You are safe here, and you are protected.”

 

~*~

 

It took Harry far longer than he would have liked to calm himself, and for no reason he could fathom, he apologized to Severus once he could properly speak again. Instead of chiding him for the unnecessary expression of regret, he eyed Harry with something not unlike a smile.

“Come,” Severus said, holding out his arm in invitation to Harry. “I think you shall like my gardens.”

Harry took his arm, already feeling somewhat bolder, if slightly nervous. Part of his mind warned him of the dangers of trusting an alpha, but a greater part felt at peace when Severus was near. 

He liked the feeling.

 

Outside, Harry breathed deeply, the floral scents tickling his nose pleasantly. The expansive back garden was bordered by a low cobblestone wall that was thick with crawling ivy. The flowerbeds were heavy with various blooms, many of which were well out of season—everything from roses to daffodils and tulips, and even more that Harry couldn't hope to name. Off to one side of the space was a tall greenhouse, and inside Harry could see more plants, though these seemed to be moving of their own accord—some were swaying in a nonexistent breeze, while others were moving in other ways, climbing, crawling on tendrils, or  _ walking. _

The other half of the garden was far less bizarre, and apart from the flowers, Harry saw a modest vegetable garden, filled with rows of herbs, potato plants, onions, carrots, and lettuces of various shapes, along with a towering apple tree.

Severus stepped away from him, only for a moment, Harry watched him crouch amongst his herbs, picking a stem of purple flowers from one of the rows. It took Harry a moment to remember, but as Severus approached him again, the sweet scent of the bloom coiled around him, and he recognized it— _ lavender. _

“The scent is not pleasing to everyone,” Severus explained as he held it out to Harry, “but if you like it, it may help calm your mind. Lavender is a very magically potent plant, and amongst its many uses, some find it helpful in easing fears, and as a relaxant for when one wishes to sleep.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, accepting the lavender uncertainly. Was it appropriate for a Support Alpha to give their omega flowers? Was it  _ only  _ to calm Harry down, and make him feel safer? Was there  _ more  _ going on here that Harry did not know about? Harry swallowed nervously, and tightened his quilt around him.

“I will step inside for a while to prepare us some lunch, I think,” Severus said, once again offering Harry a shadow of a smile. “Stay out here as long as you like, but I ask that you try to curb any impulses to enter the greenhouse. While I do not wish to restrict you in any way, the plants in there can be dangerous, and I would rather not have to rescue you from my harvest of Devil's Snare.”

Harry laughed, but Severus did not join in. He eyed Harry, an eyebrow arched, as though he was silently asking him if Harry thought he was joking. 

“I won't go in there,” Harry said, and Severus nodded.

“Good,” Severus replied. “See that you don't.”

Without another word, Severus turned and headed back inside the house without so much as a backward glance.

 

Harry turned back towards the gardens. He felt that same peace in that moment that he did at the clinic—that perfect calm _. _ The natural beauty seeped into Harry like a healing tonic, and he breathed in the fresh air.

“This is good,” he said to himself, kicking off his trainers, but keeping the quilt tight around him, clutching the lavender just as firmly while he used his toes to worm out of his socks, revelling in the feeling of the blades of grass between the digits. 

Slowly, Harry stepped over to the little cobblestone wall. He felt no desire to run off, not like he had when he was  _ there. _ Perhaps it was due to the fact that he wasn't bound here; he didn't have to stay if he didn't want to. Gemma and Severus had both said it enough times that Harry had begun to believe it—if he wanted to leave, he still could. 

Harry fixed his eyes on the field beyond the wall, and smiled when he saw a family of deer. A doe and a stag were meandering through the meadow with a tiny fawn, and the baby deer was barely visible in the tall grass. 

“That's you, baby,” Harry whispered as he touched his stomach, running his hand across it, and he smiled when he felt a tiny  _ thump  _ from within. “My little fawn.”

Harry's smile was bittersweet as he dropped his eyes from the meadow, and they fell to his stomach. Though he still hadn't quite worked out what he planned to do when the child was born, he knew that this time he felt safe enough to at least  _ have it _ .

That was an encouraging thought, in particular when so much of his life still felt very much uncertain. At the very least, he had some time to work out if he really wanted to keep the child, or put them up for adoption.

“Harry? Are you out here?”

Despite Gemma's gentle tone and attempt to not startle him, Harry still jumped a little. When he turned around, he offered Gemma a weak, apologetic smile. 

“Sorry,” Harry said, “I was miles away.” 

“Are you all right?” Gemma asked as she stepped closer. “It would appear you've lost your shoes.”

“They're somewhere over there,” Harry replied, motioning vaguely to where he'd left them. “I just...I wanted to feel the grass between my toes. That's not silly, is it?”

“Not at all,” Gemma replied, stopping at the wall next to him, and she propped her elbows against the top of the stone. “I imagine it must feel quite freeing to be able to do something like that.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, turning his gaze back to the meadow. “I was just...thinking. Not about bad things, for once. Just...y'know. Thinking.”

He laughed weakly at the repetitiveness of his statement, and Gemma smiled at him warmly before she dug into her pocket, and pulled out something shiny, which she held out to Harry.

“Here,” she said, and when Harry held out his hand to accept it, he found it to be a fifty-pence piece. 

“Er...thanks?”

“It's sort of...the wizard equivalent of dialling 999,” she explained with a small smile. “If you hold your thumb and forefinger in the centre of each side of the coin, it alerts us that something is wrong, and we will immediately come to fetch you. If Severus ever makes you feel unsafe, or like you can't reach out for help, you can use that to contact us.”

“But what if...what if I contact you by accident?” Harry asked uncertainly. “I mean...I know I still freak out over memories, not what's really going on, and sometimes I get...mixed up. What happens then?”

“It happens,” Gemma replied with a gentle, understanding sort of tone. “It's not your fault, and it will take some time for you to feel more confident about what is real and what is not. We will not hold a false-alarm against you; we'd rather be called for nothing than for you to  _ not  _ call us, and have something bad happen. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I...yeah,” Harry said as he slipped the coin into his pocket, patting it a few times to make sure that it was still there. “Er...how come you use ordinary money, and not gallons or snickers?”

“That would be  _ galleons  _ and  _ sickles _ , Harry,” Gemma said with a warm, non-judgemental laugh. “And in truth, it's because people kept accidentally spending them. Since we care for wizards, we felt that it was less likely to happen if we used a different currency.”

“That's fair,” he mused, his eyes drifting back to the meadow as he thought it over. He had no money in either currency, so he doubted that he'd be able to accidentally spend it regardless. “Er...you're still staying for a while, right?”

“As long as you need,” she replied. “I sent Ron home, and I'm going to spend the night in the guest room. If you're comfortable with it, I will be leaving tomorrow morning after breakfast. How does that sound to you?”

“That sounds fine, I s'pose,” Harry replied, shrugging vaguely. “Do you  _ need  _ to leave tomorrow?”

“If you're still nervous, I can always stay longer, or you can leave with me,” Gemma said patiently. “No one is forcing you to stay here, Harry.” 

“I want to stay,” Harry said at once, surprised with himself for how forceful his words sounded. It was true—he  _ wanted  _ to stay. However, Gemma did not appear overly convinced. “I  _ do _ , really. He makes me feel safe, and so far I can  _ see  _ that Severus is doing everything to make me not freak out. I know that it's my own stupid brain that's making me think all alphas are evil, it's not him.”

“First of all, Harry, your brain is not stupid,” Gemma said, her tone of voice gentle, but firm. “We've talked about using deprecating language to discuss your trauma. You're not broken, and you're not stupid—no part of you is. You're a strong young man who survived something horrible, and it will not help you to make flippant remarks about yourself like that.”

“I know, sorry,” Harry grumbled as he glared down at the wall. This was one of her  _ therapy things  _ she told him at least once a day, and the only thing that Harry really didn't understand—what was the big deal if he called his brain  _ stupid?  _ He knew that it wasn't actually stupid—it was just a word.

However, in favour of not arguing with his mind healer over it, Harry dropped the subject, and sighed a little.

“I want to stay,” Harry repeated. “Severus makes me feel safe, and he said he'd let me nest. He smells good, too. This is a good place, and I don't want to go. I'm just...afraid of being alone with him, in case he changes, you know?”

“I do know,” Gemma replied softly. “It is not only omegas who experience such fear—many beta women do too. Some alpha and beta men will only act cordially when it is expected, and change when they are unsupervised, so to speak.”

“Then what will stop Severus from doing that?” Harry asked, his voice shaking as he fought down another wave of panic, and paradoxically, he suddenly wished that Severus was there to help him calm down.

“Remember, Harry, Severus has been heavily vetted in order to be allowed to become a Support Alpha,” Gemma reminded him patiently. “Had we any doubts about him, he would not even be allowed in the clinic's  _ building.  _ I know you have heard all this before, but you  _ can  _ trust him. And you also have the coin I just gave you. Should anything happen, use it, and we will come to fetch you.”

“I remember,” Harry muttered dully. “I just...I  _ hate  _ this. I wish I could just...not be so delicate about all this. And before you say it, I  _ know  _ that I got through it makes me strong or whatever, but it doesn't take away from the fact that I don't  _ feel  _ very strong. I'm tired of being scared all the time.”

“Everything takes time, Harry,” Gemma said, and laughed warmly when Harry made a face at that. “Like with any physical hurt, you need to give yourself time to heal—this is not so different. You need to be patient with yourself—you can't rush yourself to get better; it doesn't work that way.” 

“I wish it did,” Harry grumbled, and Gemma opened her mouth to respond, just as a silvery, ghost-like apparition of a doe glided towards them elegantly. Harry's eyes bulged at the sight of it, but Gemma appeared entirely unfazed by its presence. It opened its mouth as though to speak, and Harry's shock only grew when Severus's voice drifted out of the creature, as though the alpha was standing right there next to them. 

“I have lunch prepared and laid out in the dining room,” the thing said, “Harry, please come to eat whenever you're ready.”

The moment the ghost-thing had finished speaking, it dissolved into faint wisps of silver smoke before it faded entirely.

“What—what—what the  _ bloody  _ hell was that?!” Harry sputtered, his eyes wide, but Gemma merely smiled, her lips pressed together as though she was trying to keep from laughing. 

“That was a Patronus, Harry,” she explained, and Harry scowled a little when a soft giggle accompanied her words. “It's a charm, a force of pure positive energy, which some wizards use to communicate, though its primary purpose is to fight off dark creatures called Dementors.”

“They sound...charming,” Harry mused, and Gemma smiled again.

“They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban. They feed on happiness, joy, any positive feeling, and make you relive your worst nightmares. A Patronus repels them; it is a good charm to know, but very difficult to master.”

“Oh.”

Harry didn't quite know what to say in response. That Patronus thing sounded useful, but Harry doubted he'd ever be able to learn something like that; clearly, given how he'd fared in the hands of Macnair, he wasn't much for magic. 

Harry heaved a despondent sigh, and mechanically followed Gemma as she said something about lunch, and allowed the mind healer to guide him back inside.


	5. Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, I'm late again v.v it's been a rough week over here—my brother's 9-month-old husky is gravely sick, and after two surgeries she's on the mend, but not out of the woods yet. Added to that on a less serious but very unpleasant note, I've got the most horrific summer cold. All that to say that I'm sorry that I'm late, and I'll try to be on time with the next update, which is scheduled for August 4th. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> **Content/Trigger Warning: Anxiety, Flashbacks, Paedophilia/Paedophilic Grooming, Implied Future Sexual Abuse**

Chapter Four – Rain

Lunch was a simple and pleasant affair of chicken sandwiches and a green salad with lemon vinaigrette, paired with a glass of fresh apple juice for Harry, and wine for Gemma and Severus. Severus was quick to inform their group that everything had been taken from his garden or small store of barn animals, in a smooth lilting voice like that of a professor. The difference in their drinks made Harry feel a little infantile, but he tried not to show it—he knew that he should be grateful for the food, as he was truly lucky to be eating at all.

With his food, Harry took a number of brightly-coloured and foul-tasting potions. Not for the first time, he  _ longed  _ for ordinary pharmaceuticals. According to everyone he'd met since his liberation they worked slower than potions, but at least they didn't taste like the back end of a cow.

“God, that's foul,” Harry grumbled as he bolted his juice, and then took a big bite of the sandwich laid out in front of him in an effort to get the taste out of his mouth. 

“Don't rush yourself, Harry,” Severus reminded him calmly as he sipped his red wine. “one of the potions I gave you is a stomach-strengthening serum to help you keep your food down, but if you rush it, you will bring everything back up.”

“And you'll get to taste your potions a  _ second  _ time,” Gemma filled in, which made Harry blanch, and he slowed down his eating.

“That's better,” Severus said approvingly, and Harry felt himself flush under the praise. “I assume by your enthusiasm that everything is to your liking, Harry?”

“Er, yes, Alpha,” Harry replied without thinking, “it's all very good.”

A tension seemed to fall over the table, and when Harry glanced up, he really thought he  _ would  _ be sick when he spotted the look of disapproval on Severus's face.

“What is it?” Harry asked, his voice quivering more than he would like. “What did I do?”

“I would rather you call me Severus, Harry, instead of Alpha,” Severus said evenly, as though he was fighting to keep himself calm, and Harry swallowed thickly. 

Had he at last found the one thing that would make Severus react like Macnair? 

Despite Harry's worries however, when Severus spoke again, his even tone had not changed. “Harry, I am not above you merely because of my designation, and I do not believe it would do you any good to refer to me as that.”

“Oh,” Harry replied, his voice soft and head bowed as he picked at the remnants of his food. “I'm sorry, Severus.”

“No harm done,” Severus replied as he picked up his fork again. “Please, Harry, I would like to see you eat.”

Harry nodded as he obediently picked up his sandwich and resumed eating, while Severus and Gemma exchanged a look that Harry didn't understand before they, too, followed suit. 

 

~*~

 

After lunch, Severus gave Harry leave to explore the house, but instead he hastened back outside and into the gardens. 

The sky was no longer clear, but blanketed with a pale grey cloud. Harry could feel minute droplets of rain touching his cheeks and dotting his glasses, but it wasn't enough to force him back inside. 

Instead, he lay down in the grass, arms and legs spread wide, and he  _ laughed. _

“My clothes are getting wet,” he announced to no one in particular, a silly grin plastered across his face as he lay there, and he laughed again.

Who knew rain could feel so  _ wonderful? _

Harry breathed deep, his eyes sliding shut as he listened to the rain. It was falling so softly that it was almost imperceptible to his ears, but as it picked up, he could hear the soft rush as it came into contact with everything the sky could touch.

This was a freedom Harry still could not believe he was tasting again. It was wet, and cold, and his clothes were close to completely sodden, but still Harry struggled to force himself up and out of the building storm. 

Wet clothes were far better than  _ anything  _ Macnair ever tried to offer him.

 

_ “Alpha, I want to go h-home, please... _ ”

_ Macnair drew the tearful ten-year-old into his arms, and petted his hair, ignoring the way Harry trembled with revulsion at his touch. _

_ “Why do you want to go home, pet? You have everything you ever need here.” _

_ Harry whimpered, and gazed back at the dank cellar that had so recently become his home.  _

_ “You'll be a good omega for me,” Macnair swore. “Just you wait and see.” _

 

Harry felt the memory viscerally, it coming on him suddenly like an avalanche upon an unsuspecting mountaineer. He rolled over in the sodden grass, and vomited up his lunch.

Severus was there in an instant. He wrapped a thick, warm cloak around Harry's shoulders, and ensconced in Severus's scent, Harry immediately felt some of his panic leave him. 

“Come inside, Harry,” Severus murmured, “I should not have allowed you to be out here so long. Come, we'll get you warmed up.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Harry replied dully, his voice rough, and he swallowed as he fought the urge to throw up again.

Harry felt Severus tense, but he did not speak on what had disturbed him. It was only then that Harry remembered that Severus had asked that he not call him that, but Harry wasn't certain if it was too late to apologize or not.

Instead, he stayed silent. 

 

Inside Severus sent off another ghost— _ Patronus _ , Harry reminded himself, and within moments Gemma came rushing down the stairs, her eyes wide with panic. 

“Oh, Harry!” she cried, hurrying forward, but stopping a respectful distance away, presumably so that he wouldn't feel too crowded. “What  _ happened _ ? You're soaked!”

“He was outside in the grass, resting,” Severus explained even as Harry continued to shiver in the alpha's cloak. “I was in the kitchen clearing up. I did not wish to force him inside before he was ready to come in. My opinion changed however when he vomited, though I do not know the cause. I assumed your presence would be more reassuring, should he want a hot bath to warm up.”

“F-Flashback,” Harry interjected, while Severus huffed, though it sounded more like he was frustrated at himself, rather than at Harry. “W-Was thinking about how good it f-felt, b-being out in the grass, then...then...”

Harry shuddered, and shook his head. 

“Come on, Harry,” Gemma said gently. “We'll get you warmed up. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. We can get you into a nice hot bath, or some warm clothes, whatever you need.”

So soon after his flashback, Harry wasn't quite ready to be naked in front of anyone, in particular for a long period, such as a bath. He tried to say as much, but he was just so  _ tired  _ all of a sudden, and the idea of forming words was almost too much for him. Softly, he mumbled, “clothes,” to which Gemma nodded in understanding.

 

Gemma escorted him upstairs and used a hasty drying charm on him which made his hair stand up far more than usual. Then, he moved behind the folding screen with a wad of clothes from his wardrobe, where he changed into a woollen jumper and a fresh pair of jeans. He was so lost in his haze of what had just occurred that Harry did not think to be unnerved about being in his room again, but with the door to the space removed, he felt far less nervous about being there. 

The thick layers of clothing felt like a shield protecting Harry from his memories, no matter how feeble it truly was. Harry even felt well enough to offer Gemma a feeble smile when he stepped around the screen. She nodded in return, and guided him to his connected bathroom, where he brushed his teeth in order to get the taste of sick out of his mouth, vaguely reassured by Gemma standing in the doorway, and impeding it from closing all the way.

 

By the time they got back downstairs, Severus had laid out a platter of tea and plain Scottish shortbread. 

Harry appreciated the simple fare, not quite certain if his stomach was up for something heavier. He smiled gratefully as he dragged a knitted blanket off the arm of the sofa, and wound it around himself like a cocoon.  

“I'm sorry for causing such a fuss, Alph—Severus,” Harry said, looking to the left of Severus, rather than directly into his eyes. The alpha's expression seemed to sour, as though he somehow disapproved of Harry's submissive behaviour.

“No, Harry, you have nothing to apologize for,” Severus replied, his voice soft and almost gentle, like Harry was a frightened animal who needed to be reassured that he was safe. “Flashbacks are common for one in your situation. You need not apologize for anything.”

“I'm also sorry for calling you Alpha,” Harry added, his gaze lifting incrementally, but he still wasn't quite able to look at Severus directly. 

“It is forgotten, Harry,” Severus replied, his tone almost dismissive, as though Harry was apologizing for something inconsequential, like spilling a glass of milk. Instead, Severus withdrew a small corked bottle of some thick, milky-white substance from his pocket and held it out to Harry.

“What's that?” Harry asked, and winced at how weak and raspy his voice still sounded.

“It is a potion for your stomach,” Severus explained gently. “It should help with the nausea, and this one has no foul taste to it...provided you like peppermint.”

“I think I do,” Harry said as he accepted the bottle. He uncorked it and down the contents to find it tasted like the fondant of a mint-chocolate biscuit. 

“Blimey, why don't all potions taste like this?” Harry said as he traded the empty bottle for a cup of tea from Severus, and he eased back on the sofa while Severus sat down next to him.

“We cannot control the taste of a potion without inhibiting its effectiveness,” Severus replied, a faint bite of irritation to his voice. Harry got the impression that the annoyance was not directed at him in particular, but rather as though Severus had to explain such a thing over and over again. “Many attempts by potioneers to  _ flavour  _ their brews has led to less potent concoctions, or, in some cases, it has had disastrous results.”

“Oh.” Harry sipped his tea as he curled up closer to Severus. He exuded a calm that paired well with his scent, and it made Harry feel even more at ease in his presence. “I s'pose then I can stomach it. But, you know, in the real—er, in the muggle world, they use these edible capsule things to hold the medicine, so that you don't taste how foul it is.”

Severus smiled, a faint indulgent smile that made Harry feel like he was the only person in the room.

“Perhaps it is something to experiment with, Harry.”

 

~*~

 

Harry stayed curled up with Severus, all but bathing in his scent. As the afternoon progressed and the rain became heavier, Severus began to wiggle his wand in hand, and Harry could hear the sounds of utensils moving themselves about in the kitchen, followed by hisses as food was applied to heat. It was rather remarkable to watch, in particular how Severus never once protested to Harry's need for him to stay close, and merely used his magic to prepare dinner from a distance while Gemma sat in the armchair near to them and worked on some sort of needlepoint. Every so often, she would lift her eyes in order to smile at Harry.

It wasn't perfectly clear if the look was reassurance, or if she was checking on him, but whenever she looked up, Harry noticed that she looked quite pleased. 

Thunder rolled outside, and rain continued to hammer the windows, but despite the vicious weather, Harry felt remarkably at peace. 

“Will your plants be all right?” Harry asked curiously when Severus set down his wand, and the alpha turned to him, his eyes widened slightly, as though he was surprised by the question.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your plants,” Harry repeated, “will they get wrecked by the weather?”

“There are certain charms in place to protect the more delicate plants from strong winds or rain,” Severus replied as he gently touched the back of Harry's neck in a comforting gesture, and Harry let out a soft omega purr, which made him flush in embarrassment, though Severus continued to smile. “Thank you for asking.”

“I like your gardens,” Harry filled in. “I'd hate to see them ruined.”

“I'm glad,” Severus replied, his mouth twitching into the ghost of a smile, while Harry curled up closer to him. Severus's free arm tightened around him, while the sweet smell of something cooking began to permeate the house. 

“What are you making?” Harry asked, finding that he felt calmer when there was noise around him. It gave him else to focus on, rather than leaving him alone with just his thoughts. 

“In theory, it is Coq au Vin,” Severus replied. “A stew, of sorts, with chicken, mushrooms, pearl onions, and wine.”

“The healers at the clinic said I couldn't have alcohol, though,” Harry began to protest, though he felt oddly relaxed when Severus offered him another one of his faint smiles.

“Not to worry, Harry,” Severus said, “it is merely for flavour. By the time it is fully cooked, all the alcohol will have burnt off.”

“Oh, all right then,” Harry said, curling up in Severus's embrace again before something of Severus's explanation suddenly occurred to him.

“Er...how d'you mean  _ in theory _ ?”

“Using magic for cooking from a distance can be something of a challenge, and while I am confident in my abilities to do so, there is always the chance that I am making an utter mess of my kitchen.”

“It doesn't smell like a mess,” Harry offered. “Should I...er...let you go to it?”

“I would much rather sit with you, Harry,” Severus replied smoothly, and Harry immediately felt himself relax, without even being aware that he'd been anxious. 

How did Severus always  _ know  _ what Harry needed?

“I am confident that I shall not poison us,” Severus continued. “I have done this before, and at worst, we may come to find an unpeeled onion floating in our evening meal.”

“I think we can all live with that,” Gemma added, lifting her gaze from her project in order to smile at Harry. “Don't you think?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, shifting closer in order to scent Severus, and calm himself.

 

~*~

 

The coq au vin was delicious, and Harry had to stop himself after two servings. Had it not been for Severus and Gemma warning him that he needed to pace himself where his food intake was concerned, Harry was certain that he would have eaten the entire pot.

It was followed by cups of after-dinner coffee (tea for Harry) and treacle tart, which Harry came to find was probably the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. He did his best to eat politely, but it was a true trial, as he was half tempted to cram the entire slice into his mouth whole.

Following their meal, Gemma challenged Harry to a game of chess—the ordinary kind, rather than the wizard variety—while Severus sat on the sofa and read.

The rain still pouring outside, though the wind had noticeably died down. 

Harry felt oddly calm as they played game after game, even feeling  _ better  _ when Severus would glance up from his book occasionally in order to look at Harry, as though he was checking up on him. 

Harry smiled to himself as he moved his rook forward a few squares, and pretended not to notice Severus watching him. Unlike how he'd often felt at the clinic, of how he'd snap or feel frustrated with the healers for constantly checking up on him, or asking him  _ how he was feeling _ , with Severus, oddly, he didn't mind it so much. 

As Harry watched Gemma take his rook, he was tempted to ask her why that was. However, with Severus sitting well within earshot, Harry decided against it for the time being, and continued on with the game.

 

Around nine o'clock, Harry had to admit, however grudgingly, that he was too tired to stay awake any longer. It irked him somewhat—he was only twenty, after all, and he didn't like feeling like such a child for needing to sleep so early. 

Like with Severus watching him, it was another thing that Harry decided not to mention, at least at present. Instead, he mumbled something about being tired, and Severus arched a brow at him inquiringly. 

“Where would you like to sleep, Harry?” Severus asked. “Would you like to try sleeping in your room, or would you rather sleep here, where it is more open?”

“Can I try the room first?” Harry asked timidly. “I mean...if that's okay?”

“That is fine, Harry,” the alpha confirmed, his head inclining in a slight nod. “I removed the door per your request, as you saw when you got changed earlier, and the windows in your bedroom also open all the way, though I would not recommend that for tonight, unless damp bedding is somehow comfortable to you.”

Harry laughed a little, though Severus did not join in. If Harry wasn't mistaken however, he thought that Severus's expression had warmed a little, offering Harry something that was almost a smile. 

If Harry could earn more smiles like those, he was certain that he would be well again in  _ no  _ time.


	6. First Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Update days are being moved officially to Tuesdays for the foreseeable future, given that I can't seem to update any sooner than that lately. XD That being said, the next update will be Tuesday, August 20th. Enjoy! Also, thank you to those of you who sent well-wishes to the pupper <3 Freya is doing much better, and while she is still on a buttload of meds and can't have full walks yet, provided that things keep improving, she is gonna be just fine :D
> 
> **Content Warning: Anxiety Attack, PTSD**

Chapter Five – First Night

As Harry settled into bed that night, rain pattering against his window in a comforting rhythm, Harry almost wished he could call up Severus or Gemma to talk with him until he fell asleep. It felt like too much of a childish request however, and he resisted the urge. 

As he lay there, Harry was reminded why night was the worst time for him. He had nothing to focus on now that he was expected to sleep, except for the bad memories that constantly plagued his mind.

 

“Maybe I should've accepted Severus's offer of a sleeping potion after all,” Harry muttered over an hour after he had gone up to bed, and still found himself wide awake. The book he'd selected to read off his night stand,  _ Gadding with Ghouls, _ had at least  _ sounded  _ like fiction, though the narrator of the story was such a ponce that Harry had trouble not getting annoyed with every new paragraph, and thus it was not helping him to fall asleep. It was one of the books Gemma had brought for him, and the only one that he had not found painfully boring.

“Maybe Severus has more interesting books,” Harry mused aloud, caught between wanting to get up and ask Severus for better books, or perhaps a sleep potion, but he couldn't decide which sounded better to him. At the same time, the idea of leaving his room to ask for something made him unexpectedly nervous. What if Severus thought he was being too selfish by asking for something? 

An unpleasant churning of his stomach paired with a disorienting dizziness overtook him as suddenly as a rogue wave in the open sea. Harry wasn't completely certain  _ why  _ he was panicking this time, knowing only that the idea of leaving the room was no longer merely making him uneasy, but it was suddenly a terrifying prospect, one which he did  _ not  _ wish to enact. 

Harry breathed slowly, in through his nose, and out through his mouth in an even rhythm while he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. In an effort to calm himself, he mentally repeated the mantra he'd heard countless times since his rescue—

_ I am here, I am safe, Macnair can't hurt me anymore. He's gone, I'm safe... _

It didn't help, and Harry shivered as he tried to figure out  _ why  _ he was so scared, but to his frustration, he still came up with nothing.

A soft tapping upon the frame of the door startled Harry out of his thoughts as he unwilling emitted a soft, frightened yelp. He jumped a little before his gaze whipped towards the entryway, and he saw Severus take a large step back, clearly having realized that he'd startled his charge.

“I'm sorry that I frightened you, Harry,” Severus said, watching Harry intently. Despite the tone with which he spoke—an even, velvet voice that Harry was quickly associating with safety, Harry could hear the genuine apology in it. “The charms I have on your room alerted me, implying that you were in distress. Did you have another flashback?”

“No,” Harry mumbled, dropping his eyes as he frowned at the bedspread. “I dunno what's wrong. I'm just...scared. For no reason.”

“May I come in?” Severus asked, and Harry once again felt that odd sense of frustration at the question. He'd rather hoped that Severus would be above walking on eggshells around him like everyone else did, but perhaps he'd been foolish to hope for such a thing. “I assumed that it would be more comfortable to talk if we are not shouting from several feet apart, you see.”

“Oh, um, all right, I suppose,” Harry replied, feeling a modicum of relief flood through him at Severus's explanation. When he looked back up, he saw Severus walking into the room, and noted that now he had divested of suit's jacket, and he was wearing just the underlying black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, along with the trousers from earlier.

Severus eased himself down onto the end of the bed, and immediately Harry hastened to his side, relaxing the moment he tucked himself into Severus's warm embrace, and he breathed in a lungful of Severus's calming scent.

“My guess is it is not  _ nothing _ that is unsettling you, Harry,” Severus whispered as he stroked his fingers through Harry's hair, making the omega purr as he shut his eyes and listened to Severus's voice. “I would assume that a new house is rather stressful for you. You may not feel it consciously, and I understand that you are here because you wish to be, but even people who have not experienced the horrors in your past may feel a sense of disquiet at being in a new environment. It is not shameful to feel fear, Harry.”

“I'm so tired of being scared,” Harry muttered, mumbling the words against the side of Severus's neck as he spoke. “I was scared all the time for ten  _ years. _ I want it to be over—it  _ should _ be over.” 

“That is the great secret of horrible events in our lives, Harry,” Severus murmured as he continued to pet Harry's hair. “They happen, and we assume, or perhaps  _ hope  _ that in time they will fade. Then something occurs that reminds us of it, and we realize just how deeply the trauma has cut. It never goes away, Harry.”

“Then what do you do?” Harry asked, his voice edged with desperation as he clung to Severus, and the alpha squeezed the back of his neck gently in silent reassurance. “I—I can't keep living like this. I can't even  _ function  _ around people. I can't just...not get better.”

“No, Harry, that's not quite what I meant,” Severus said, his voice somewhat rushed, but still soft, clearly having noted his verbal misstep. “What I mean to say is that the pain of it will fade, and you will not always fear everything around you, but sometimes things may happen that will remind you of it, and it will all come rushing back. What you must do is not fester in this setback, but overcome it. You are stronger than I, and were our situations reversed, I doubt that I would come back from such horrors with such clarity of mind.”

“So...you're saying that I'll sort of get over it, get triggered at some point and  _ feel  _ like nothing has changed, but really a lot has changed, and I can't let myself get stuck in the mud that my brain has become?”

“In essence, yes,” Severus replied, inclining his head in a slight nod. “I know that such explanations may feel senseless to you, or perhaps daunting, but if it happens— _ when _ it happens, you will now be prepared for it. However, if it ever feels as though it is too much, you have myself and Gemma who you can always come to for guidance. I shall never turn you away, Harry, and anything you say to me is private and confidential. This house is a safe space, and it always will be.”

“Thank you, Severus,” Harry said, speaking once again into his neck, not quite able to lift his gaze, instead burying his face farther into Severus's scent, which caused the older man to chuckle softly.

“Er...Severus?” Harry asked after a moment's pause, and Severus hummed to indicate that he was listening. “Er...would...would you lie with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

“Are you certain of that, Harry?” Severus asked, pulling back just enough to arch a brow at the omega. “Considering your history, one would assume that an alpha— _ any  _ alpha in your bed would spark bad memories.”

“I...” Harry trailed off, and bit his lip. “I don't know if it'd upset me. I mean, I've been in your room, and in your arms, and you're here, on my bed, and I don't want...well... _ you know _ . It's not like that. I just know that you make me feel safe, Severus. I'm not sure if I can sleep without your scent.”

“I can fetch a blanket from my bed,” Severus offered, “or perhaps a shirt or robe with my scent on it. Please understand—I am not attempting to avoid you with these offerings. My only wish is to not unnecessarily push you towards something that your mind may misconstrue as intimate, and incite a flashback.”

Harry bit his lip as he gazed up at Severus, somewhat at a loss for what to say. How had Severus  _ known  _ that Harry's first belief was that Severus found him disgusting, and did not wish to be around him in such an intimate setting?

In truth, Harry truly would not have been surprised, had that been the case. How could  _ anyone  _ stomach holding him like this, after what he'd done? Was Severus  _ really _ not disgusted by him, or was he just saying it as his role as a support? 

Harry didn't speak on it, not quite trusting himself to not say something foolish. Instead he timidly asked, “can we try? Please? If I freak out we can do the blanket thing, I promise.”

Severus regarded him for a long moment, as though he was mulling over Harry's request, before at last he seemed to give in, and lay down on one side of the bed. 

Severus had not pulled Harry down with him as Harry had expected him to, but merely lay, somewhat stiffly, while he regarded the omega, who was still sitting up on the bed awkwardly. Severus's eyes were guarded, as though he was prepared to leave if Harry showed any outward signs of discomfort, but otherwise his body language was lax and open—welcoming. 

In spite of the lack of threat, Harry still hesitated. He gazed at Severus, their eyes locked together, but despite his most fervent searching, he saw no malice in the older man's dark stare. The expression was almost blank, somewhere between emotionless and warm, a confusing mix that left Harry uncertain if his request was asking too much of his support. Of course, such a thing like  _ sleeping together  _ in the sense of merely sleeping had been something which he'd been told repeatedly that some omegas needed, like a human security blanket. 

When presented with the option for himself however, even after having requested it, Harry found that he was wholly uncertain if he could lie with an alpha without feeling terrified. 

“Perhaps I should just go, Harry—” Severus began when Harry had been silent for too long, but Harry quickly cut him off.

“No,” Harry said, his voice escaping him more as a gasp than anything else. “I—I want you here. I'm just...thinking about what you said, and I got lost in my head a little. I don't like being scared.”

“What can I do to put you at ease, Harry?” Severus asked, his voice soft and smooth, almost like a purr. The sound itself was comforting, and Severus's position was distinctly non-threatening—he lay flat upon the bed, his head tilted to the side, exposing his throat to Harry. While such displays of submission weren't that common, even for omegas, Harry still understood what Severus was trying to do—show Harry that he would not hurt him, no matter what.

“I don't know,” Harry replied after a pregnant pause. “Can I just...can you just...not move? I want to lie down, but just...don't touch me yet, okay?”

“Take all the time you need, Harry,” Severus replied as he nodded in understanding to Harry's request. Oddly, the acquiescence to Harry's words seemed to lift a great weight from the omega's shoulders before he'd even tried to lie down alongside the alpha. Had this been Macnair, he would have flown into a rage for an omega  _ daring  _ to try and tell him what to do.

 

“ _ I'm the alpha, you're the omega. You  _ never  _ tell me what to do.” _

 

Harry shivered at memory of the horrible words, but thankfully Severus's scent helped to push it away, and he was able to stay present for the most part, though Harry could still feel his hands trembling. 

Harry began to crawl forward, but he quickly stopped. The action felt too sexual, and he didn't want to give Severus the wrong idea. Hastily, he lay down on the bed, but with a gap of nearly a foot between them. Harry shifted until he was eye-to-eye with Severus, but the older man did not pounce on him, or do much of anything, really. He merely watched Harry benignly, as though he was waiting for something.

“I...you're...” Harry tried to speak, but it came out as a jumble of words and nonsensical syllables. Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, but he didn't feel any better. 

“Harry, may I touch you?” Severus asked, his voice soft and soothing, and Harry, not quite certain if he was up to forming real words, shook his head. Severus nodded, and instead tilted his head to the side, brushing his hair out of the way with his long fingers, and offered up his scent to Harry in lieu of physically touching him. 

“Harry, you're safe,” Severus murmured, holding his position, and not moving towards Harry at all. “I know that that likely feels like a silly, abstract concept to you. Safety must feel almost laughable, after what you have endured. However, know that I shall never touch you without your consent. I shall never do anything without your  _ express  _ permission. If you want me here, I shall be here, and if you do not, I shall leave.” He paused, and rolled over onto his stomach, his hands firmly folded beneath his chest while he gazed at Harry, as though he was trying to emphasize his intent to not touch Harry without permission, and to show himself in a less imposing state. 

Harry didn't know what to do. 

The words had felt genuine, but the position Severus assumed had thrown him off. It was so... _ submissive. _ Knowing Severus's designation, it felt almost wrong, somehow.

“I don't want you to go,” Harry said at least while he reached out a tentative hand, but his fear got the better of him, and he retracted the limb hastily. “I just...it's confusing. I want you here, but I'm afraid, too. I don't really know how to make myself less scared.”

“Shall I sit by your bed instead, Harry?” Severus asked softly. “I can draw a seat for myself, and sit by your side until you find sleep, if that would be preferable to sharing the bed.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed, moderately surprised by how readily he acquiesced to the suggestion, while he mentally kicked himself, wondering why he hadn't thought of it before. “I...yes, I think that would be good.”

Severus got up without protest and took out his wand before he proceeded to draw a chair in midair. The hard-backed chair spun in place for a moment as it materialized before Severus slowly guided it to the ground, it landing with barely any sound at all.

He then sat down, conjured himself a cup of tea, and crossed his long legs while Harry shifted in the bed, suddenly much more comfortable, in particular with Severus's calming alpha scent clinging to the blankets. 

“I'm sorry,” Harry suddenly blurted out, and Severus paused, the teacup a hairsbreadth from his lips as he gazed down at Harry, his eyebrow curved as he regarded the omega.

“For being so...so... _ broken _ ,” Harry explained, and rushed on before Severus could protest his choice of words. “I want you to hold me, I want that  _ safe  _ feeling, but the second you get too close when I'm in a bed, I just freak out. I hate being like this.”

“Harry, you are most assuredly  _ not  _ broken,” Severus replied, his body seeming to twitch as though he wanted to reach out and console Harry with some sort of physical touch, but remembered himself at the last moment, and did not move. “I assume that you are fed up of hearing it, but to endure what you have takes insurmountable strength. As with any physical injury, your mind will need time to heal. If you wish, we can by all means experiment with easing you into some sort of contact in this setting—I do not mean sexual, but something simple, like holding hands as you rest, and work up to letting me hold you in sleep. If you think you need such contact, I will by all means help get you there.

“However,” Severus continued, his voice taking on a clipped, almost harsh tone as he added, “I  _ do not  _ wish for you to force yourself. Imagine your fear as a broken bone. It needs time to heal, but even after it has done so, you may still need time for it to regain its strength. To force yourself to resume your regular activities too soon would only hurt yourself more, not less. I can imagine that it must be frustrating, but being good to yourself is better than pushing through the pain too prematurely.”

Harry scowled, the expression coming to him before he could completely think it through. It was likely part of the reason Macnair used to hurt him so much— _ Wilful. Insubordinate. Misbehaving _ . It crept out of him, even when his instincts would  _ scream  _ at him to submit just to make the pain stop. 

This time however, the cause of his expression was sheer  _ annoyance _ . Did Severus think he was an idiot?

“Ah, so there is still fire in you, Harry. Good.” Severus smirked, and Harry felt his cheeks flush cherry. “You are not the wilting little flower that everyone seems to think you are. You're  _ strong _ . Anyone else in your position may not yet feel confident enough to look at me like that. In fact, most don't have the nerve to, even if they hadn't endured what you have.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked, a softness returning to his voice. He reached for Severus, and the alpha offered up his hand willingly, allowing Harry to enclose it between both of his own.

“It means in the end, you will be all right.”

 

~*~

 

When Harry woke the next morning, he was alone.

The lingering scent of his support seemed to almost clog the air, ensuring that last night hadn't been some sort of wild dream. Paired with it was the smell of breakfast food, and Harry felt his mouth begin to water. Until that moment, he hadn't quite realized just how hungry he really was.

Harry clambered from bed and rushed into some fresh clothes, bypassing a shower in order to appease his protesting stomach, and he hastened down to the dining room where he found Gemma and Severus sipping coffee and nibbling on croissants, both of their heads buried in copies of  _ the Daily Prophet _ .

“Morning, Harry!” Gemma said cheerily, setting aside her paper when she saw Harry step in. “Are you hungry? Severus was kind enough to have a run to the bakery this morning, and got us all fresh pastries.” 

“You're...still here,” Harry said in reply, blinking at her in confusion.

“I'll be heading off after we eat,” she answered, still smiling.

Harry belatedly recalled what Gemma had asked him as he continued to stand there dumbly. He cleared his throat as he said, “erm, yes, please.”

“What would you like?” Severus interjected, flicking his wand lazily, and making the entire platter slide across the table and towards the empty seat, leaden with an empty plate and a tall glass of juice, making it clear that the setting was for Harry.

Harry glanced at the cups of coffee in the other two adults' hands, and he felt an odd churning in his stomach that he couldn't quite identify. When he'd been taken, he had been far too young for such an  _ adult drink _ , and during his time with Macnair, he'd be lucky to get bread and water to fill his aching belly. After he'd been rescued, the beverage had been firmly placed upon his  _ not allowed  _ list, both for the sake of the baby, and due to the fact that it would likely make him sick, given how  _ delicate _ his stomach currently was as it acclimated itself to real food again.

Oddly, Harry found himself wanting it almost desperately, despite having never tried it before. He wanted to feel like an adult for once in his life, and not a silly little boy who constantly needed to be taken care of. 

“Harry?” Gemma asked as Harry sat down heavily in the proffered seat. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Harry replied without looking up. He made a grab for one of the croissants, only to crush it in his hand as the flaky pastry cracked around his firm grip. “Still waking up.”

Even without gazing at them directly, Harry could see Gemma's shoulders sag as she exchanged a worried look with Severus, who scowled at her, as though she'd said something particularly offensive to him. 

Gemma seemed to deflate, and gazed at Harry with obvious concern, though she said nothing. The trio returned to their breakfast, an awkward silence heavy on the air.

Harry ate three croissants and a cherry-cheese turnover before he began to feel even remotely full, if a bit queasy from all the fat he'd imbibed in such a short span of time. The vile potions Harry had to take kept the food down, but he knew that despite this he'd have horrible heartburn later—he always did when he ate too much heavy food.

Harry licked his fingertips, and used them to gather the last crumbs from the plate, only dimly aware that he was being observed as he did it. His thoughts were not on his caretakers however, but on the night prior. 

It occurred to him sometime between sleeping and waking that he was tired of feeling weak, helpless, and so very  _ needy _ . He wanted to show Severus and Gemma he could do things by himself without falling apart, but what  _ could  _ he do on his own that wouldn't make them freak out?

Walking to town from the house seemed too big of a task at present, and in truth he didn't know if there was really anything there for him. His support wasn't  _ in town— _ he was here, in this house.

_ So what can I do in this house that shows them I can do things?  _ Harry wondered as he licked the crumbs off his finger, and went back for more.  _ I can't really do anything. I can't read and write at an adult's level, I have no money, no transport, no nothing. I'm completely helpless. _

Harry twitched, his anger rising in him again.

_ No, not helpless.  _

He'd survived Macnair, after all. Certainly that meant he wasn't  _ completely  _ helpless.

_ I can nest _ , Harry realized with a slight jolt.

It was perfect. 

He could nest, and show Severus that if nothing else, he could provide for his child, and create a safe haven for them.

Harry grabbed his glass, and drained the remainder of his juice, invigorated suddenly with the new task he had set for himself. He could say goodbye to Gemma today, he could nest, and prove to the world that he  _ could  _ do things for himself.

It wasn't much, but it was a start. 

At the moment, that was all he really needed.


	7. Nesting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for September 3rd. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: Anxiety, Panic Attack**

Chapter Six – Nesting

 

Harry felt decidedly odd as Gemma took her leave that morning.

She pulled Harry into a hug after she pointedly asked him for one, only embracing him after he nodded awkwardly, but not uncomfortably. As Gemma embraced him, she reminded him that he could contact her  _ any time—day or night _ , and reminded both him and Severus of Harry's upcoming appointments back at the clinic with herself and his general healer. 

Harry knew that the ginger bloke— _ Ron _ —would be coming to fetch him, given that he still couldn't travel in a less mundane way. Privately, he hoped that the bloke wouldn't protest Harry's support accompanying him. Last time he'd seen him, it appeared as though Ron hadn't liked Severus very much. 

 

A hand on Harry's back made him jump a little, and he turned to smile at Severus in apology as he mumbled a soft, “ _ sorry, _ ” though the quick word did not seem to soften the worry lines on the alpha's face very much.

“Shall I call Gemma back?” Severus asked, his voice soft while he regarded Harry with intense, calculating eyes. Harry hadn't realized how long he'd been staring at the spot that Gemma had vanished from, but he smiled at Severus weakly while he shook his head. 

“No,” Harry replied, his voice soft but certain. “You make me feel safe, and I have links to the world outside of here, should I need it. As barmy as it sounds...I feel kind of okay.”

“ _ Kind of okay _ is certainly better than  _ not okay at all _ ,” Severus offered, his hand sliding from the centre of Harry's back to his shoulder, and he offered it a gentle, reassuring squeeze before he let Harry go. “I shall be in the basement brewing if you need anything. Do not hesitate to call for me.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied, smiling weakly at the older man as he watched him retreat into the house. Severus appeared to have a newfound spring in his step, as though he was particularly relieved that Gemma was gone.

Harry stood outside for several long minutes, trying to decide how to react to Severus obvious relief at Gemma's absence, but no decision came to him. 

 

~*~

 

When Harry at last made it back inside, he recalled the decision that he'd made at breakfast, and smiled a little as he thought of it. The idea of creating a nest felt  _ good— _ and  _ right. _ He didn't really know how other omegas dealt with pregnancy and childbirth, but he liked the idea of having his child somewhere he felt safe.

_ And I do feel safe here, that is, when my stupid brain isn't working against me, _ Harry thought, smiling faintly as he moved away from the front door and meandered up the stairs with soft, almost soundless steps as he headed towards his room.

Harry didn't have much in the way of nesting materials, but he did recall Severus saying that he was welcome to use anything he wanted for such a purpose. Despite the offer however, Harry still felt mildly uneasy at the prospect—what if Severus changed his mind?

Harry shivered, reaching his hand into his pocket in order to run his fingers over the edge of the emergency coin, but he did not sound the alarm. The feel of the warmed metal was oddly reassuring, reminding him that help would be here in an instant, should he ever need it.

Emboldened, Harry walked to his room, and checked his wardrobe. It was empty save for his meagre possessions, and the clothing the clinic had provided him. Unfortunately, there were no blankets, towels, or anything else that Harry might wish to use for a nest.

His mouth twisted into a grimace of frustration. Harry stepped out of his room again, this time gazing around the upstairs, trying to remember which door was which. 

As Harry chewed on his bottom lip, he made for the door across from him, and found the guest room that Gemma had used. It still smelt faintly like her, but did not bear the materials he would need for his nest either. 

Somewhat disheartened, Harry shut the door and moved onto the next one, only to find Severus's room. It smelt strongly of him, and Harry shivered a little at the sight of the bed, despite having been upon it once before during his first flashback at the house.

Hastily, Harry shut the door. 

In an effort to distract himself from his trembling, Harry returned to looking for the cupboard of linens, and after one more failed try in which he located the upstairs toilet, at last he found it. 

The cupboard was stacked floor-to-ceiling with blankets of varying shapes, sizes, and textures. Some appeared to be hand-knit, while others were soft quilts or cotton duvets that seemed to be stuffed with downy feathers, making it both thick and plush. There was even a velvet blanket, though Harry could not fathom it being very comfortable. 

Harry stood at the cupboard for a long time, perhaps longer than was wise. He touched every item in the small space, finding a few things that he definitely would have liked to use, but memories of what Macnair did when he had once caught Harry nesting gave him pause. What if Severus changed his mind, and got angry for Harry taking what wasn't rightfully his? What if he  _ hurt  _ Harry?

Harry shuddered, ashamed of his own fear as he grabbed the thinnest, most inconsequential bedsheet that he could find, and adjusted the positions of rest of the cupboard's contents, making it look as though nothing had been taken. 

Feeling very much like a thief with a sackful of diamonds, Harry shut the cupboard door with sweaty, shaking hands before raced back to his room. The sheet was clutched tightly in his arms, his fingers locked in place around the folded edges as he ran, before he collapsed on his unmade bed as he began to hyperventilate, and conflicting thoughts barraged his mind.

 

_ Severus said you could nest! _

_ But what if he's lying? _

_ Severus is a support, he can't lie about things like this! _

_ But what if he's  _ _ lying _ _? _

 

Harry groaned, and buried his face in his hands.

 

~*~

 

For once, Severus did not come running during Harry's panic attack. However, a platter of tea and biscuits mysteriously appeared on his night stand, which Harry supposed was Severus's way of offering him comfort when he was teetering in between moderate anxiety and a complete meltdown.

 

Severus did come to see him around lunchtime, requesting that he come and eat and Harry hastily hid the bedsheet he'd been eyeing under his pillow. He had been debating how to use it to make the nest he kept envisioning, but kept coming up empty. He wanted to nest, but at the same time he was nervous, as the same tired worry kept invading his thoughts—what if Severus changed his mind?

_ I hate this, _ Harry thought sullenly as he picked at the roast beef sandwich and leafy salad Severus had offered him for lunch.  _ I was so ready to do it this morning, and now I'm terrified. I wish I was brave, like Severus is...it seems like nothing ever phases him.  _

Harry chanced a glance up at the alpha, and jumped a little when he saw that Severus was staring at him.

“Erm...is something wrong?” Harry ventured awkwardly, finding himself floundering a little without Gemma there as a buffer. 

“I believe I should ask you that, Harry,” Severus replied, gazing at Harry with an odd intensity in his eyes, like he was trying to peel Harry open and find the truth about what was going on. “Your lunch is being picked to bits, and I've yet to see you take a proper bite. Is Gemma's absence unsettling you?”

“Er...no, not really,” Harry replied, his gaze dropping, struggling to find the right words with Severus staring at him like that. “I—I mean, you make me feel safe, so I'm not really worried about being alone with you anymore...”  _ as long as you don't hurt me _ , Harry thought, shaking his head as he dismissed the thought and continued. “But it's just...I don't know. I guess I'm still adjusting to everything.”

Harry chanced a glance back up in time to see Severus incline his head in a short nod. His expression was dour, thoughtful, but not wholly unpleasant, even when he was wearing his voluminous potion-making robes that gave him a distinctly batlike appearance.

Harry swallowed thickly, and returned his attention to his uneaten lunch.

 

~*~

 

Harry headed back up to his room and his pitiful nest, which consisted only of the thin bedsheet that was still hidden under his pillow. 

It now smelled like him, which was a small comfort. While at the clinic, Gemma and his healer, Filomena, had talked to Harry endlessly about the importance of scenting things in order to make himself more comfortable in a new space. Harry could recall a number of perfectly odd but strangely comforting sessions with himself, Gemma, and Filomena on the ground in an empty room, a blanket each, and they rolled around on them, almost like they were making snow angels. Harry was shown how to rub his neck, wrists, and inner elbows in particular against the fabric, which was said to transfer as much scent as possible to the article. 

Harry hugged the blanket to his chest as he remembered those strange lessons. He could recall all that he had to do, and yet he still couldn't bring himself to do it. Like nesting, leaving his scent on anything deliberately had been something he wasn't allowed to do while under Macnair's tyrannical rule. It had felt fine to scent things at the clinic, where it did not feel as though he was taking up space in someone else's house, but now he lived with  _ Severus _ . How would the alpha feel if Harry just  _ scented  _ all of his nice things?

_ I can't do it, _ Harry thought shakily as he got up on weak, wobbly legs, the thin blanket still hugged to his chest.  _ I better put this back before he notices... _

Harry staggered into the hall, only to stop short at the sight just outside his bedroom. 

Stacked neatly against the wall next to his door frame was a set of thick, soft blankets.

More than that, they happened to be all the blankets that Harry recalled liking best.

“What the...?” Harry began, only to trail off when he noticed Severus approaching him in just his shirtsleeves and fitted trousers, another stack of blankets towering high in his arms. 

“I do recall, Harry, when you first arrived here, that you said something about never being able to nest before,” Severus began as he set down the second stack of blankets next to the first. “And then imagine my surprise when during our second luncheon together, I find you positively miserable, and yet, like some sort of foolish adolescent, you would refuse to tell me what was wrong. Had you been my student back when I taught, I would have been quite pleased to assign you detention, or dock points from your House.”

“...how many points would you have docked?” Harry asked curiously, and Severus's eyes glinted with silent amusement as he regarded the young man.

“Shall we say...as many as I could get away with,” Severus replied lightly, and Harry laughed. In response to Harry's genuine reaction, Severus offered him the shadow of a smile. 

Harry felt himself relax, if only a little. 

“Be that as it may,” Severus pressed on, “you are not my student, nor am I your professor. You  _ are  _ however in my care, and upon seeing how unhappy you were I took it upon myself to investigate. Imagine my shock when I found your scent  _ all  _ over the linen cupboard, and nothing missing but a feeble little sheet not even suitable for the pigs.

“Harry,” Severus continued, reaching down slowly but deliberately, and when Harry did not flinch a way, Severus extended his hand in order to cradle Harry's chin with the crook of his index finger, and gently coaxed the omega's head up until their eyes met. Harry shivered, despite feeling no malice in Severus's gaze. In that moment, he felt so  _ safe _ . 

“When I told you that you may nest, it was not a trap intended to ensnare you in some form of wrongdoing,” Severus said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I swear to you, Harry, I was being truthful—should you wish to nest, you are  _ allowed _ to nest. You may use whatever materials you wish, from the linens in the cupboard to the clothes off my back. It is my  _ duty  _ to ensure that you feel comfortable and safe here, not afraid. Moreover, I  _ want  _ you to feel safe here, Harry.”

“Are you getting tired of saying that yet?” Harry asked, his tone a little dry, and Severus's mouth twitched into a wry smirk. 

“I shall continue saying it until you believe it,” Severus replied, his thumb uncurling from the hand that braced Harry's chin, and it brushed lightly across Harry's jaw, making him shiver involuntarily. “Now, I understand that an omega's nest is a very personal, private place, but if you require help, I can by all means offer it.”

“No,” Harry replied, pulling his head away from Severus's gentle hold, and he let him go without protest, while Harry fought to ignore the eruption of butterflies in the pit of his stomach. “I—I should do it myself.”

“All right then,” Severus replied, inclining his head in a slight nod. “Then I shall return to my potions. Should you require anything, do not hesitate to come see me.”

Severus turned and walked away, his words a mirror-image of what he'd said that morning, but for the first time, Harry almost dared to believe it. 

If he really needed help, Severus would give it.

Still feeling distinctly light-headed, Harry gathered up an armful of blankets, and hastened back into his room.

 

It took Harry four trips to carry in what Severus had left for him, and then much longer to scent each item to his liking. From Severus carrying them, they still smelt faintly of him, but Harry did not feel the need to obliterate the alpha's scent completely, but rather compliment it with his own. They melded together pleasantly, like vanilla and lavender, or orange and cranberry. 

Once Harry was content with the scent of each blanket, Harry began to make his nest, weaving the materials together carefully on his bed in the shape of tight oval, with just enough room to nestle himself in the centre. In order to strengthen the scent, he added a few garments of his own clothing to the mix, and he felt himself brim with pride as it began to come together, like a real nest—something he'd never had before.

 

Severus called Harry for dinner long before his nest was completed to his satisfaction, though oddly he did not feel particularly upset by this, and instead headed down the stairs, almost skipping, and unable to wipe the smile from his face.

As Harry made it to the first landing, he was momentarily overwhelmed by the scent of rosemary, mushrooms, and cooking wine. His steps slowed a little as he took a moment to enjoy the delicious scent before he spotted Severus in the dining room, carefully doling out servings of a stew of some kind into bowls. 

“Ah, Harry, there you are,” Severus said as the omega approached the table, “I made a wild mushroom stew with sausage and rosemary. Not to worry—the cooking process will have burnt off the alcohol in the wine I used.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Harry replied, smiling a little as he sat down across from Severus, and picked up his spoon. “It smells really good, Severus. You're a great cook.”

“Well, cooking is not so different from potion-making, albeit without the rat tails,” Severus said wryly, which caused Harry to laugh. The alpha used his wand to slice and divide the bread, which Harry began to smear with butter while Severus poured himself a glass of wine. “Perhaps I could teach you one day—though I should warn you, I am a hard teacher.”

“D'you mean teach me potion-making or cooking?” 

“Both, if you like.”

“Maybe potion-making after the baby is born,” Harry said with a weak smile, “I'm not sure if those sorts of fumes would be good for it.”

“True enough,” Severus replied, nodding a little in agreement while he dipped his spoon into his stew, and took a bite before he continued. “Perhaps I am prying, and do not feel obligated to answer, but have you decided what you wish to do when the child is born? Some people in your position sometimes feel that they cannot raise a child brought into the world in such a brutal way, and give them up for adoption, while others, should they have such means, opt for a blood adoption instead—”

“What's a blood adoption?” Harry interjected curiously as he mimicked Severus and took a spoonful of the stew, which caused him to nearly moan aloud. It was  _ delicious. _

“A blood adoption is not unlike a regular adoption, though it is usually enacted before the child is born,” Severus explained, his voice taking on a smooth, professorish tone of voice that Harry felt enthralled by—he was certain that he could listen to Severus talk about dry rot and not get bored. “A special potion is brewed with the blood of the mother or birth father, and the blood and semen of the adoptive father. The mother imbibes the potion, and it will remove all aspects of the previous father, thus replacing it with the new one. It is a potion that is highly regulated by the Ministry, as misuse of it by the higher-classes used to be rampant. Any accidental pregnancy or pregnancy that the families deemed unwanted was rectified, so to speak, by this potion, sometimes without the mother's consent, thus eliminating the unwanted father from the bloodline without his knowledge. Such a thing is highly illegal, and can lead to a prison term if one were to attempt such a thing nowadays.”

“Oh.” Harry paused, picking up his bread as he thought it over. “I don't think that'd be...y'know, out of the question. I mean, I've been worried about having the baby and seeing... _ him _ . I dunno if I'd be able to be a parent to a baby who looks like...” Harry shuddered, and pressed on hastily. “But this blood-thing...maybe I'm being stupid, but it almost sounds like  _ hope  _ to me. Though I dunno about willingly swallowing someone's sperm.” He made a face, and Severus chuckled softly. 

“You needn't decide right now, Harry,” Severus said kindly. “There are still five months until your child comes, and plenty of time to decide what is the right decision for you. Tell me—how is your nest coming along?”

Relieved for the switch in topic, Harry happily regaled Severus with the process of scenting the materials before arranging them how he liked. He punctuated his talk with bites of food, and the meal disappeared faster than Harry had anticipated, and Severus silently offered him a second serving. 

Harry continued, talking more than he could recall ever talking before. He felt so calm, so  _ relaxed _ . 

Dare he think it, he almost felt  _ happy. _

“In summation, you are content with how the nest is progressing?” Severus filled in when Harry's explanation tapered off, and Harry nodded a little, getting up in order to help Severus carry the used dishes to the kitchen, but Severus waved him off, indicating that he should remain sitting.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, nodding as he watched Severus flick his wand, vanishing the dishes, and they were replaced with a mixed-berry pie, tub of ice-cream, and a pot of tea. “I can't explain it, but I feel almost like something is missing from it, but I have no idea what...”

“You shall figure it out,” Severus replied, slicing the pie and offering Harry a moderate sliver, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream, as well as a cup of tea. “As I recall, it takes time for most omegas to find the right combination of scents and materials for it to feel like the nest that they need.”

Harry nodded in agreement as he dipped his fork into the mixture of warm pie and cold ice-cream, and again felt awash in a sea of pleasure at the perfect melding of flavours on his tongue. 

 

The evening progressed, and though Harry was keen to return to his nest-making, so too was he enjoying his time in Severus's company. He was so smart, and seemed to know everything about everything. Harry couldn't quite imagine him as a judgemental, unpleasant teacher like Gemma had described. In fact, he was so patient and kind, far and away from what everyone had told Harry about him.

With more tea for Harry and scotch for Severus, they played a few rounds of chess as they continued to chat. Harry felt that it was rather obvious that Severus was letting him win, even when Harry played badly on purpose to  _ make  _ the alpha win at least once, but the man still found tricky little ways to move the game in the omega's favour.

Even then, Harry could not find it in him to be annoyed with Severus. Rather, he felt safer than ever.

 

“Well, I don't know about you, but I feel that watching you throw that many chess games is quite exhausting,” Harry said teasingly over an hour later, surprising himself by his own tone, and he bit back his laughter when a look of surprise crossed Severus's face, realizing that he'd been caught. “I think I shall go to bed.”

“Good night, Harry,” Severus said smoothly, standing up with the omega, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Shall I apologize for shifting the games in your favour?”

“Not this time,” Harry replied, smiling a little. “But in the future...can you maybe let me lose once or twice, at least? I won't fall apart over a loss or two, I promise.”

“I am beginning to understand that I have underestimated your strength, Harry,” Severus replied, bowing a little in respect. “Sleep well. Should you require anything, you know where I will be.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied, a true smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he stepped back, and headed for the stairs.

 

Harry was so lost in his own little world that he hardly noticed where he was going as he meandered up the stairs, humming contentedly as he went, unable to recall the last time he felt so warm, safe, and happy. The baby seemed to notice his mood, and shifted in him, bringing yet another smile to Harry's lips as he ran a hand across his stomach gently, which only caused the baby to shift even more.

Despite his pleasant distraction, he was not so lost in his own thoughts that he did not notice the newest offering folded neatly outside his bedroom door.

Compared to earlier, this time the pile was small. The top piece was a solid black, and the one beneath it a medium grey. 

Curious, Harry moved closer to the pile of clothing, only to have his heartbeat pick up as the scent of  _ alpha _ accosted him, though for once not out of panic.

Without even unfolding the fabric, Harry could smell that they belonged to Severus. 

In the same breath, Harry knew that  _ that  _ was what his nest had been missing.

Biting his lip in order to stifle his smile, Harry hastily gathered the garments up, and scampered into his room.


	8. Check-Ups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for September 17th. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: Anxiety, Referenced Past Abortion, Referenced Past Miscarriage, Dissociation**

Chapter Seven – Check-Ups

 

The van rumbled under Harry's feet, but he hardly noticed it. Se rested in Severus's arms, comforted by his scent, while Ron drove the pair of them to the clinic for Harry's appointments with his general healer, and mind healer that day.

Severus did not appear particularly fond of their mode of transportation, though he did not voice any sort of complaint to Harry. Despite this, Harry could feel how tense the alpha was—and it certainly didn't help that Ron and Severus did not appear particularly fond of one another.

“Your family contacted me this week, Harry,” Severus said conversationally as they drove, perhaps in an effort to dispel the awkward silence within the vehicle. 

“Oh,” Harry replied, wincing a little. “What did they want?”

“What they always want—to see you,” Severus said, a sour note to his voice, though Harry got the impression that the negative attitude was not directed at him. “Your godfather in particular was quite adamant that he ensure I was not mistreating you. I shall not force you to see them if you are not ready, but perhaps you should speak to Gemma today about reaching out to them in some way that is not distressing to you. They are not trying to hurt you, they are just concerned about your well-being.”

“Why won't they just take your word that I'm fine?” Harry asked, his question making Ron snort, which he hastily shifted to an unrealistic, hacking cough, and Severus shot the back of the ginger's head with a nasty glare. 

“Your godfather and I have a... _ complicated  _ past,” Severus replied, his arm tensing around Harry momentarily before he continued. “We went to school together, and we did not exactly get along.” 

“Really?” Harry asked, perking up a little with curiosity. “What was he like?”

Severus pursed his lips. For a long moment, he did not say anything.

“Perhaps I am not the best person to answer that, Harry.”

 

~*~

 

The remainder of the trip was quiet, save for the soft sounds of the radio, which Ron seemed compelled to toggle so often that it bordered on an annoyance, and Severus clucked his tongue every time he did so. The redhead pointedly ignored Severus's small verbal cue for him to stop, while Harry grimaced, hoping it did not escalate into a proper argument, and he tried to come to a decision about what to do concerning his family, when he still did not feel at all ready to meet them, or contact them in any way.

Why couldn't they just be reassured that Severus was taking care of him, and he'd meet them when he was ready?

He came to no decisions, though thankfully, Severus and Ron managed to keep their tempers more or less in check. When the pair disembarked from the van, Harry felt his shoulders slump slightly in relief. 

Severus allowed Harry to cling to his hand in something close to a vice grip, and as an added comfort, the omega was wrapped up in his quilt like a cloak, despite the summer heat. 

If Severus at all minded Harry's clinging or choice to bring along the quilt, he did not protest, and merely led Harry inside, where he spoke to the receptionist as to the reason why they were there. 

“Third door on your left, down that hall,” the receptionist said with a bored tone of voice, pointing to the General Healing wing of the clinic. “Healer Wise is waiting for you.”

“Shall I wait here for you, Harry, or would you like me to come along?” Severus asked, his benign tone giving Harry the impression that there was no wrong answer. Harry liked that knowledge; he liked not being afraid constantly, though his fear was often still close at hand. However, these small moments gave Harry hope that all was not lost with his foolish, skittish brain.

“You can come, it's just my doctor's—er—healer's appointment,” Harry replied, smiling up at the older man. “They'll probably tell you everything anyway, seeing how my stomach still acts funny sometimes and all that, so it'd be pointless for you to sit it out.”

Harry felt rather proud of himself in that moment. Though he was still wrapped up in his quilt, he gazed up at Severus, looked him in the eye, and spoke with barely a tremor in his voice. 

Harry knew that it would be foolish to assume he was already better—he knew that he wasn't. If Severus got impatient, even if it was over something inconsequential, or if it was something that had nothing to do with him, Harry still got nervous. Sometimes, he got flashbacks. His nightmares were still a problem, and Severus was reluctant to give him potions that would make him sleep dreamlessly, as there was a chance such a thing might harm the baby.

And sometimes when Harry got really anxious, it would present itself like a bad flu, and he would spend several hours throwing up.

Harry  _ knew _ that he wasn't better—but so too did he know that he was at last starting to get somewhere.

Which was progress, regardless how frustratingly slow it was.

 

“Come along, then,” Severus said, his gentle voice drawing Harry out of his daze. “Let's go.”

With Severus's arm wrapped securely around Harry's waist, the alpha guided him to the healer's office where they found Filomena Wise already waiting for them, her nose buried in Harry's file. Her gaze snapped up when Harry and Severus stepped inside, though they fixed on Severus in particular, as though she wasn't certain why he was there.

“I asked him to accompany me,” Harry said in response to her look. “That's all right, isn't it?”

“Yes, that's quite all right, Harry,” Wise said kindly, her demeanour immediately relaxing in response to Harry's words. “As long as you are perfectly comfortable with his presence, I have no protests.”

“I don't, I want him here,” Harry replied, and Wise nodded in understanding.

“Then, please, have a seat,” she said, smiling warmly as she set the file down, and waited until Harry and Severus had stepped over to the chairs across from her desk before she spoke again. “And how are we feeling today?”

“Fine, I s'pose,” Harry replied, shrugging as he gazed at his healer. “Erm, some difficulties with nightmares and stuff though.”

“Would you feel comfortable being more specific on what you mean by  _ stuff _ , Harry?” she asked kindly, steepling her fingers as she gazed at him. “Remember, I can only help you if you're honest with me. Being uncomfortable about certain subjects is perfectly understandable, but as I have told you dozens of times before, this is a safe space, and I want to help you. To do that, you need to tell me everything that is going on.”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, dropping his gaze to his lap, and he compulsively reached for Severus, who offered up his hand to Harry without protest. 

Emboldened by the touch of his support, Harry went through everything that he could recall—from being sick from a flashback, his nightmares, his anxiety, to issues he suspected were from his pregnancy—dizzy spells, heartburn, food cravings at odd hours(though always for pumpkin pasties), and the few times he'd been sick when he wasn't completely certain if it was from his anxiety or not.

“All right, Harry, that's quite a lot to deal with,” Healer Wise said with a friendly smile. “I'm afraid that Dreamless Sleep Potion is not an option while you're pregnant, but I will send that information onto Mind Healer Perkins, and perhaps she can discuss some meditation exercises with you, or the use of some essential oils as a more natural relaxant. It's not quite the same  _ quick fix  _ that a potion would be, but I believe it would help.

“The sickness I believe is anxiety, but we need to be cautious which mood stabilizers you take, because certain kinds can be harmful to your child. If you're agreeable, I think I'd like to try increasing the dose of mood-stabilizing potion that you're already taking, and see if it makes a difference. If you're not fond of how it makes you feel though, you can by all means return to your original dosage without first consulting me.

“As for your heartburn, that can be approached with a simple heartburn potion, though if it persists I'd like to prescribe something stronger,” Wise concluded as she scribbled something down on a piece of parchment, then added, “but just to be safe, I'd like to check your blood pressure today, just to make sure the dizzy spells aren't a cause of high blood pressure. I'd also like you to continue to take your stomach-strengthening serum for another few weeks, just to make sure your body is strong enough to handle food on its own before we take you off of it.

“Okay,” Harry agreed as he tightened his blanket around him. “Will all these potions hurt the baby?”

“Not the ones I have prescribed, no,” she replied with a warm, reassuring smile. “We're keeping a close eye on you and your child, Harry. You have my word.”

“Okay,” Harry repeated, and he smiled faintly at the healer.

“All right, are you ready for your examination?” she asked, and Harry, feeling slightly better about everything, nodded.

 

~*~

 

The examination proceeded as many others. Harry was gently coaxed out of his quilt by Severus, who held his hand while Healer Wise checked him over, including his blood pressure, which he was given some potions for in order to counteract it from getting too high. She also said something about adjusting his diet— _ again— _ which did not thrill Harry. Heart-healthy diets, at least the ones in Harry's imagination, weren't what he'd consider to be very appetizing.

The scan to see his growing child was far more pleasant, in Harry's estimation. Reclined upon the examination table, he held Severus's hand while he smiled and gazed at the parchment, which bore the grainy image of a baby. 

“They're about the size of a pomegranate right now,” Wise explained, moving her wand in order to turn the image and give Harry a better view of his child. “They look very healthy, all things considered. What we were most concerned about is how your ordeal may have affected the child, but it seems that they are as resilient as you.” She paused, offering Harry a smile, and he flushed with embarrassment, while Severus offered his hand a light squeeze. “However, upon your last cervical exam, I noticed rather a lot of scarring in your anus, and so I believe that a scheduled birth by caesarean section would be a safer option for you. The last thing we want is to take any unnecessary risks.” 

“That sounds fine,” Harry replied, rather liking the idea that he would not have to go through the pain of a natural birth. “And...what about what we talked about during my last visit?” he hedged, recalling, only vaguely, of his last check-up prior to leaving the clinic with Severus—and, if he was being honest with himself, virtually every healer visit since he'd been brought to the clinic. 

Wise frowned.

“Are you referring to your request of having a hysterectomy after the baby is born?” she asked, her voice somewhat stiff, and he nodded, which caused Wise to frown. 

“Harry, what you asked is a very serious matter, and you are only twenty years old. Added to that, you are requesting the procedure during a very tumultuous time in your life,” Wise said, her voice softening like she was talking to a child, which caused Harry to scowl. “I will say the same thing that I said last time you asked: we shall discuss it  _ after  _ your child is born.”

Harry scowled at her, but it didn't change her answer. She smiled at him with what she clearly thought was a friendly gesture, and handed him a slip of parchment, listing his new potions and nutritional instructions. She then gently ushered Harry and Severus out of her office with a few bland parting words, while Harry sullenly wrapped himself back up in his quilt before he stomped out.

Severus said nothing as they moved from the General Healing Wing and to the Mind Healing one, where Harry was due to meet with Gemma. When Harry glanced up to his support, he noted that Severus appeared pensive, but not outwardly angry. 

Harry squirmed uneasily under the protection of his quilt, wondering if Severus was cross with him. Everyone had been so eager to let him make his own decisions, ever since he'd arrived at the clinic as little more than a shellshocked mess. It had taken him nearly a week under their care before he spoke at all, which all his caretakers had deemed as  _ remarkable _ , though Harry never really understood why. Even back then, the first thing he'd wanted was to stop himself from having children, and like now, they were still reluctant to let him. 

Harry ground his teeth; they'd all been so willing to help him with anything he needed, so why were they stopping him from doing  _ this _ ?

Harry slumped into the waiting room seat while Severus moved over to the receptionist to alert them to Harry's presence. He hated that he felt like crying over Wise's latest rejection to his request, though he did feel minutely calmer when Severus sat back down, and pulled him into a gentle embrace. Harry leant against Severus's shoulder and breathed in his scent, but it didn't help him calm down very much.

“You never told me that you wanted such a procedure done,” Severus murmured softly, perhaps in a bid to keep from being overheard. “And it wasn't in your file.”

“I've been asking ever since I was coherent enough to do so,” Harry muttered sullenly in response. “But they keep acting like I'll suddenly change my mind. “While... _ there _ ...I had nearly fifty heats, and I fell pregnant for almost every one. I didn't know that was even  _ possible _ —you probably saw the details of what I did to end them; I'd goad him into hitting me until I miscarried, I drank poisons, I used wire coat hangers... _ anything _ . This last one seemed determined to live, and somehow they're  _ healthy _ . I...why would they want me to keep something I don't want after all that?” Harry paused, and winced at his own phrasing. “The hysterectomy, I mean, not my child.”

“Unfortunately, many health care providers believe that you will  _ change your mind _ as you grow older,” Severus replied, shifting his grip so that he could hold Harry's hand and rub his back at the same time with the opposite limb. “In your case particularly, I find that mindset utterly preposterous. You have been through quite enough torment for one lifetime, and there are other means for producing a child should you decide later on that you want one. Shall I request a different healer for you? This one seems to be clinging too closely to her foolish values.”

“Wait, I can do that?” Harry sputtered, and Severus offered him an amused smirk, the hand at his back moving in order to coil his arm around the omega's waist, and he offered Harry a gentle squeeze. 

“Yes, you can. If the healer is doing something—or, rather  _ not doing something _ that is so detrimental to your mental health, I think it is perfectly reasonable to ask for someone else.”

“I didn't know that,” Harry muttered, bowing his head a little in embarrassment. “I thought you were just... _ stuck  _ with whatever doct—er, healer they gave you.”

“Not at all, Harry,” Severus replied, running his hand along Harry's back one last time before he abruptly jerked it away, and concurrently gave Harry's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “If you like, I can by all means speak to someone on your behalf while you have your session with Miss Perkins.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed readily, “um...can you ask for a beta female healer? I feel weird with alpha males...or men in general who are allowed to look at my bits.”

“Of course,” Severus said, just as Gemma stepped out, and the alpha lifted a hand to her, as though to ask her silently to give them another moment. “Is there anything else that you would need of them?”

“Maybe someone who's not too...er...old fashioned?” Harry hedged, and Severus nodded in understanding.

“I shall try and get a few possibilities, and you can select one you like whenever you're ready, all right?”

“Okay,” Harry said, “erm, will you be finished with all that when my appointment is over?” 

“I believe so, but Gemma can escort you to the front desk if I am not here,” Severus replied, and Harry nodded. 

“Okay, then, I'll...er...see you later.” 

Harry stood up, Severus releasing Harry readily, though Harry didn't quite enjoy being separated from him. While it made sense that Severus would sit in on Harry's general healing visit, the same could not be said for a mind healer, when their discussions were often private.

“So, what was that all about?” Gemma asked as she shut the door to her office, and Harry sat upon the sofa designated for patients. Already the side-table bore a cup of tea and a few chocolate biscuits, and Harry reached for the cup, if nothing else for something to do with his hands.

“Oh, well, Healer Wise said a few things that I didn't like, and Severus agreed that it wasn't very...er...professional, I guess, of her. So he suggested I request to change healers. I liked the idea of doing that.”

“What sort of things?” Gemma asked as she sat in a squashy chair across from him, with no desk in between them. Harry always like that aspect of his sessions with Gemma; without the desk it felt less like some sort of mandatory appointment, and more like he was meeting with a friend. “You know, sometimes medical practitioners say things we don't want to hear, but often it's for our own good, not because they feel the need to hurt our feelings.”

“No, this wasn't like that,” Harry replied with a slight grimace. “I mean, I didn't like it when she suggested we change my diet because of my blood pressure either, but that I understood. This seemed more...personal?”

“Do you want to talk about it, Harry?”

“She just...she seems adamant that I keep all my  _ bits  _ after the baby's born, and she seems to think I'll change my mind and regret it afterwards. I mean...blimey, after the hell I went through, why would I  _ want  _ to keep my bits? Nevermind that I can't even imagine ever having sex again, but the idea of having another heat makes me feel like I might puke.”

“First, Harry, I think it's completely understandable that you'd feel that way about your reproductive organs,” Gemma said as she rested her palms against her knees while she regarded Harry. “I think your healer is just worried about your healing process, so to speak. Sometimes people who have been in bad situations with abusive spouses, or after bearing children of rape, they feel just like you do at first—they want to eliminate the risk of it happening again, and as a result take drastic measures in order to stop their body from repeating such a terrible ordeal.

“However, few people can say that they've been through what you have,” Gemma continued, her voice speeding up a little, as though she suspected that Harry was going to interrupt her with some sort of protest. “I think it's not just reasonable that you'd want a hysterectomy, but practical. You've endured not one or two pregnancies as the cause of rape, but  _ many.  _ Luckily for you, only one child has come of it—I cannot imagine how much harder it would have been had you given birth in such a scary situation, and knowing this, you used whatever tools you had at your disposal to stop that from happening. In fact, you risked your own life to spare a child bring brought into this world, who would very likely have gone on to become his  _ next  _ victim.”

“If you think it's so great, then why does Wise keep acting like I'm making a huge mistake by asking for it?” Harry asked sourly. “And...I mean, you lot know  _ magic _ . Can't you just...build me a new uterus if I change my mind?”

“Some organs are easy to replicate—hearts, lungs, kidneys...but reproductive organs are trickier,” Gemma explained, wincing a little as she spoke. “There is a lot that can go wrong, and the few attempts that I have read about to create a uterus magically have ended... _ badly _ , to put it mildly. In terms of medical magical research at the moment, a hysterectomy is quite permanent, should you choose to go forward with it. As for Wise's attitude, I believe that she is just worried you might change your mind if you ever meet someone you feel comfortable enough to be intimate with. However, I am not saying it's an inevitability, or that it will most assuredly happen. Harry, you know your comfort levels much better than me or any other healer here, and only you can decide if you ever want to get to that point with someone.”

“I feel like I never will,” Harry replied with a grimace, slouching forward in order to cradle his cheek in his hand. “Do people like me  _ ever _ get over something like this?”

“I'm not sure your goal should be to  _ get over  _ your experience, Harry,” Gemma said with a consoling note to her voice. “It is less about that, and rather...teaching your mind that you are no longer a prisoner, remembering that  _ he  _ is gone, and can no longer harm you. Many rape victims and kidnapping victims are able to go on and live normal lives, both in the sense of a  _ normal life _ , and a normal sex life. The key is to want to change—if you feel that, then we can absolutely work on getting you there. Not for any potential partner you may have, but for  _ you _ .”

“Okay, I think I can do that,” Harry said, though he wasn't completely certain that enjoying sex ever again was at all possible. “Where do we start with that?”

“Perhaps we should start aggressively, rather than working our way up,” Gemma said thoughtfully as she consulted her notes, which were floating next to her. “As you know, once you were acclimated to your time at the clinic and we were no longer concerned that your ability to make conscious decisions was inhibited, we offered you a Legilimency Numb Extraction. This means that with your permission, we extracted copies of both your memories and repressed memories of your experience during your incarceration, and we use them as a base to determine what needs to be addressed and what is considered upsetting, but not necessarily traumatic. We are under oath to never share these memories with anyone you do not allow us to, and once you are fully released from our care, the copies are destroyed. This process enables us to speak with you on what occurred without dragging the memories out of you in a way that might force a flashback, such as us  _ insisting  _ you detail to us what occurred. With this method, we already know what has happened to you, and we can move forward together.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Harry replied. The extraction hadn't been the most fun thing in the world, but at least he hadn't had to relive the memories while they did it, which was a blessing. Despite this, his stomach still churned with unease at Gemma's suggestion that they start  _ aggressively _ . “What do you want to start with?”

“The Box.”

Harry felt all the colour drain from his face, and he swayed in his seat, immediately dizzy. He could already feel his breakfast turning over in his stomach, and he feared that he might  _ actually  _ be sick. 

In the span of blink, Gemma was on the floor in front of him, not touching him, but speaking. Through his haze of overwhelming fear, it took Harry a moment to comprehend what she was saying to him.

“Harry, stay with me, all right?” she said, though it almost sounded like Harry was hearing her from under water. “You're safe. You're at the Omega Clinic, and no one here will hurt you. We are just talking. We don't have to discuss that topic just yet if you don't feel ready. Stay with me, all right? I want you to breathe, in...out...in...out...”

Harry didn't quite understand all the words, but he did understand the motions of breathing. He mimicked Gemma, breathing slowly until the world seemed to come into sharper focus. The mind healer seemed to sense that he was no longer on the brink of a dissociative episode, and gently laid a hand over his. Even seeing the contact coming Harry still jumped a little, but he didn't let go, and instead gripped tightly to Gemma's hand.

“T-Too a-a-aggressive,” Harry stammered out, only then realizing that his face was wet, and he hastily wiped away the tears. 

“Harry, I'm so sorry,” Gemma said softly. “That was a mistake a new healer would make, and something I should have known better than to suggest. You're a very mentally strong young man, but I still should have not said that we should to start there. Would you like to end it here for today?”

Harry nodded, even as tears began to drip down his cheeks again. He didn't fault her for her mistake; he knew that she was only a few years older than him, and so could not have been a licensed mind healer for very long. Unlike Wise, Harry thought that Gemma truly had his best interests at heart, and she was trying to help, but in this particular instance, merely overestimated Harry's ability to discuss certain topics. 

“Come on,” Gemma said gently as she stood up, and waited patiently for Harry to get to his feet. “Let's go see Severus.” 

Nodding again, Harry got onto shaky legs, and Gemma touched his back gently in order to steady him. Slowly and sluggishly, he followed Gemma out of the office, and back to where his support was waiting.


	9. The Wand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for October 1st. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: Flashback, Nightmares, Abuse, Confinement, Anxiety, PTSD**

Chapter Eight – The Wand

 

“ _I've told you, you little fuck, you can't escape me,” Macnair snarled, his grip on the fourteen-year-old's arm so tight that Harry was certain it would bruise. He swallowed a yelp of pain; Harry knew that it would be worse if he cried out. “Now...you need to be punished. Time to go in The Box.”_

_The implication behind his captor's words sent Harry into a panic, and he let out a scream as Macnair began to drag him towards the bedroom._

“ _No, no, please!” Harry cried, his scrabbling, splinter-coated bare feet doing nothing to slow Macnair's heavy steps towards the room. “Not The Box, please, please not The Box!”_

_Harry screamed as loud as he could, and tugged uselessly on the arm closed in Macnair's grip. It did nothing—he was dragged like a ragdoll to the entrance of the room, where already The Box lay open and waiting for him._

_Harry screamed again, and Macnair ignored him. He picked Harry up, pointedly ignoring the boy's struggling, his screaming, and his crying. Macnair dumped him into the coffin-sized box, before the lid snapped shut, enclosing Harry in darkness._

 

Harry woke with a jolt, his heart racing, and his he found his clenched hands enclosed in a gentle warmth.

Severus.

Harry whimpered, and immediately clambered into Severus's lap, tucking his face into the crook of the alpha's neck as he trembled with the aftershocks of the nightmare.

“There, Harry,” Severus murmured as he gently rubbed Harry's back, even as he continued to shake. “It's all right. It's over, _he_ cannot harm you. I'm here, and I shall protect you. Take your time, just breathe...that's it...”

Harry clung harder to the alpha, letting out a soft whine as he did so. Severus continued to hold him, rocking him like a child, neither trying to usher him towards a sense of calm, nor, thankfully, asking him about his nightmare.

In the month since Gemma's ill-fated mention of The Box, Harry had been reliving those horrible experiences of it nightly in his dreams.

Macnair's second-favourite method of punishing him, after beating him senseless, was to lock him in a soundproof and unbreakable coffin-sized box, and leave him there without food, water, or bathroom breaks for days at a time.

Impossibly, Harry had never succumbed to death from dehydration, as though Macnair knew exactly how long Harry could survive in there before he let him out again, though on occasion he'd let Harry out just long enough to eat and drink before he was locked back in, sometimes beaten first if he'd left a mess in his trousers, or in the box itself.

The memories had worsened Harry's claustrophobia, making it hard to even close the bathroom door when he needed the toilet, or to shower. As a result, his new healer, Healer Althanea Younge had prescribed him special anti-anxiety potions to be taken only when he was suffering from a panic attack.

Harry had to take it at least twice a day to keep himself from feeling almost constantly terrified, though Harry didn't feel as though it really helped—all it did was make him sleepy, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was _sleep._

Harry lost track of how long he sat curled in Severus's arms, but when he did at last find his calm again, he felt an odd sense of exhaustion, like he was a towel that had been furiously wrung-out. Harry pressed his forehead to Severus's shoulder, letting out a little sigh, and Severus, in turn, pressed a gentle hand to his back.

“Perhaps I should call off today's meeting with your tutor and Mr Ollivander?” Severus inquired in a soft tone of voice. “Unless you feel that you are well enough to do it?”

“No, I want to—I _need_ to,” Harry said. “I want to learn magic so I won't feel so bloody useless all the time.”

“Shall I remind you that you are in no way, as you say— _useless_?” Severus murmured, his voice so soft that it caused Harry to involuntarily shiver, though he wasn't completely certain why. “You are a very strong young man with or without your magic. However, if you feel that you need to be reassured of your own strength by means of regaining your magical ability, I will, by all means, support you.”

“I don't feel that strong,” Harry muttered miserably. “If I was stronger, I'd've been able to get away from Macnair...”

“And you did,” Severus filled in, his tone almost teasing. “That is why you are here.”

“No, like... _sooner_ ,” Harry explained, laughing a little in response to Severus's words, though he wasn't completely certain _why_ he was laughing at all. None of this was even remotely funny. “I just...I think I'd feel better if I had a way to defend myself. That way, no one will ever be able to hurt me ever again...is that silly?”

“Not at all, Harry,” Severus replied, his embrace on Harry relaxing a little, as though he intended to let him go, while Harry clung to him more tightly in response. “After what you have endured, I think that it is perfectly reasonable that you would want to reclaim your independence and have a means to defend yourself. Miss Granger will be tackling the more practical magics with you—Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, while I shall introduce you to Potions and Herbology. As irritating as I find her company, I must admit that she is quite an intelligent witch, and I feel that interacting with people other than just myself and Gemma would be good for you.”

“Why don't you like her?” Harry asked curiously. “Is she...mean, or something?”

“When she was my student, she was an _insufferable_ know-it-all. Her little boyfriend was the troublemaker, but she was _beyond_ difficult to deal with in a classroom setting.”

Severus broke off, visibly grinding his teeth, as though there was more to the story than this _Granger_ person just being a little annoying. Harry moved to ask, when Severus added, “admittedly, she has calmed down since she left school, and is not quite as annoying as she used to be. She is good with her omega students, and you need not worry that she will do anything harmful. Further, I would not allow it. I shall be there as long as you need, unless you'd rather see her alone.”

“I want you there,” Harry replied as once, dipping his head into the crook of Severus's neck, and the older man shivered, though Harry wasn't certain why—surely he couldn't be cold in so many layers of robes? “And Ollivander...” Harry added while he continued to scent the alpha, “he's the wand bloke, right?”

“Yes,” Severus replied, gently coaxing Harry off of his lap, though he still held onto his hands in silent reassurance that Harry wasn't being rejected. “He has something of a travelling stock he uses for those unable to attend his shop, and he will help you select a wand.”

“Erm...Severus,” Harry hedged, biting his lip as he gazed at the alpha, “while I appreciate all this, how am I to pay for a wand? Or books? I'm certain that tutoring involves books of some kind...I haven't any money.”

“Ah, well...you see, you have more than just a little sum of money,” Severus replied, his tone a little stiff, and the look on the older man's face gave Harry the distinct impression that he was almost afraid to explain what he was on about. “I apologize that no one said anything to you earlier, but both Gemma and myself were worried about overwhelming you with too much information too quickly. Both of us felt that easing you into all the facts of your life would be preferable, so as to not upset you.”

“Oh.” Harry bit his lip. “Er...so...will it be enough for a wand and books?”

“I would surmise that even a solid gold wand with a diamond core would not make a dent in the trust your parents left to you,” Severus replied with a wry smirk. “Of course, as your support it is my duty to pay your expenses, but if you would rather pay for it yourself, by all means, I will not stop you.”

“I...what?”

Harry stared, not quite believing what he was hearing, while Severus stared back, his impassive expression giving away nothing, even as Harry asked, “am I like...rich or something?”

“Or something,” Severus replied, the dry tone causing Harry to giggle a little. “I would not say that you need never work a day in your life, but with the proper investments I do believe you can live on the funds quite comfortably.”

“Investments...” Harry whispered, and laughed almost hysterically at the notion. “That sounds so... _adult_. Here I am, can barely handle my own bloody _nightmares_ , and there you are talking about investments like I'm a proper adult!”

“Many adults struggle with mental health issues, not just those who have endured something as traumatic as you,” Severus said, his tone gentle and reassuring, which calmed Harry's near-manic laughter almost immediately.

“So does that mean I won't be like this forever?” Harry asked in a small, almost meek voice. “You really think I'll get better?”

“I do not doubt it, Harry. You are strong-willed, very much like your mother.”

Severus stopped, and Harry felt him freeze. He got the distinct impression that Severus had not meant to say that, which was surprising, as Severus was usually so careful with his words.

“You...knew my mum?” Harry asked, not quite certain if it was appropriate to pose such a question, in particular when it seemed to cause Severus to shut down even further, as though he was building a mental brick wall to keep Harry from learning any more.

“Come,” Severus said, his voice somewhat stiff, “I do believe it's time for breakfast.”

 

~*~

 

Harry found himself quite nervous as he donned his dressing gown and descended to the dining room for breakfast, but Severus made a point of telling Harry (after a short period of time) that yes, he'd known Harry's mother, but he'd rather not discuss it.

Harry had done his best to act understanding and accepting of Severus's explanation. After all, just because he was Harry's support did not mean he needed to tell Harry every tiny detail of his life.

But by the same token, he _needed_ to know.

Harry hated the conflict he felt at that realization—after the life he'd lived, he didn't really know how to talk to people, though he could read them extremely well. It was a survival tactic left over from his ordeal, and had enabled him to _know_ when Macnair had been in a particularly foul mood, and it had saved him from more than one beating.

Thanks to that, Harry knew that trying to ask Severus about his mum, at least at the moment, was out of the question.

_But there's still time,_ Harry thought to himself as he returned to his room to dress for the day ahead, before he headed back down to wait for their guests. _Maybe as I learn to trust Severus, he'll learn to trust me, and he can tell me about my mum._

Harry was jarred from his thoughts when he made it to the sitting room, and found two unfamiliar people already stepping out of Severus's fireplace. One was an old man, and the other a young woman around Harry's age with bushy brown hair.

Both of them appeared markedly nervous, in particular when they focused their attention on Severus. The old man appeared more calm, while the girl seemed to be trying to smile at Harry's support, though it rather looked like she was in some kind of pain.

_I guess Severus's complaints that they don't get on weren't that far off the mark,_ Harry mused as he forced a small, meek smile, and stepped forward. Unfortunately. his courage failed him at the last moment, and he slotted himself into Severus's side.

His actions did not seem to alarm the two guests, lending credence to the fact that they'd dealt with traumatized omegas before. The girl seemed to be fixing her gaze almost continually on Severus, a look of concern marring her nervous expression, one which Harry was becoming intimately familiar with—as though she feared that Severus might somehow hurt him.

“Ah, I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Mr Potter,” the old man said kindly. “May I shake your hand?”

“Er, all right,” Harry agreed, and he extended his hand to the old man, Mr Ollivander, and they shook. His pale eyes, like twin moons, seemed to see more deeply than Harry thought was possible, and he stepped back quickly from the older man, and pressed himself more firmly into Severus's side. He pressed a hand to Harry's back in silent reassurance, but he said nothing.

“The first order of business is to select your wand, yes?” Ollivander said, apparently undeterred by Harry's nervousness. He seemed to know to keep his distance, and not crowd the omega, while he lifted his heavy leather bag, which made a loud noise as it came to rest on Severus's coffee table, as though it was a much larger bag than it truly was.

Harry moved to respond, but already Ollivander was rummaging through his bag, continuing to monologue as he dug through it. “It seems only yesterday that your mother was in my shop buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. Ah.”

Ollivander stopped speaking as he retrieved a measuring tape from his bag, and with a quick flick of his own wand, the instrument flew at him, making Harry jump a little, and he watched in quiet amazement as the tape measured his height, his arm length, around his head, and seemingly everywhere else, even places that seemed to have (at least, in Harry's mind) nothing to do with magic, like around his ankles and the space between his nostrils.

“Your father, on the other hand,” Ollivander continued, as he want back to rummaging through his bag, while the tape continued its work, “favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it—it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

He paused his monologue, pulling out of the bag a narrow box in hand. At the same moment, the measuring tape dropped to the floor.

Ollivander's eyes lifted, as those of so many others had in recent months, to his scar.

In light of all that occurred, Harry hardly thought of it, though Gemma had told him the story when he'd asked _why_ everyone gawked at it when they first met him.

He didn't really know what to think of the knowledge that he'd somehow, mysteriously, killed the most famous dark wizard for a century at a mere year old, when he could barely take care of himself at his present twenty years of age. At first, he hadn't believed it, and perhaps hadn't _wanted_ to believe it. It seemed so outlandish, so surreal, and yet every witch and wizard he'd met thus far seemed to know it to be true.

“I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” Ollivander said softly, and Harry knew immediately that he was talking about the death of Harry's parents. He swallowed thickly, uncertain if he wanted the old man to keep talking. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands...well, if I'd known what that wand was going out in the world to do...”

Ollivander shook his head sadly, even as he opened the narrow box and pulled out a long, thin piece of wood—a _wand_.

“Come, Mr Potter. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

Harry accepted the handle of the wand, lifting it to do as instructed, but almost immediately it was snatched out of his hand.

“No, eh? Hmm, let me see...” Ollivander tossed the wand aside, haphazardly stuffed back in its box, and withdrew another wand for Harry. “Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try—”

Harry tried, and yet again the wand was snatched almost immediately from his hand.

 

Harry tried, and he tried.

Severus and the girl looked on silently, never once interrupting as the pile of discarded wands grew and grew. As it grew, Ollivander seemed to get more excited, while Harry gradually became more depressed. It felt a lot like everyone had made some horrid mistake about Harry being a wizard if so many wands had not worked for him.

“A tricky customer, eh?” Ollivander asked as he dug once more into his bag. “Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere...I wonder, now...yes, why not...” he emerged from the bag again, another box in his hands, and he appeared thoughtful as he opened it. “Unusual combination, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Harry took the wand, and could not swallow his gasp of surprise as his fingers coiled around the smooth, varnished wood. A warmth filled him, starting from his fingertips, and it seemed to flood his entire body. No longer did he feel nothing save slight foolishness by holding a wand—now he felt an odd sense of confidence, and as he waved it, to his amazement, he watched as a shower of red and gold sparks erupted from the tip.

“Oh, bravo!” Ollivander cried, while the woman applauded, and Severus offered Harry the shadow of a smile. “Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well...how curious...how very curious...”

Ollivander continued to mutter to himself as he began to manually package up the measuring tape and discarded wands into his bag, muttering, “curious...curious...” to himself as he did so. Harry glanced up to Severus, but the alpha's expression was impassive, yet again like he'd hidden himself behind a mental brick wall.

“Sorry,” Harry said when it became clear that no one was going to explain it, “but _what's_ curious?”

“I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter,” Ollivander said as he lifted his gaze to Harry. “Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Harry stared. A chill ran up his spine, and he glanced up to Severus. His expression was still quite impassive, but a tendril of emotion had filtered out, displaying not only his shock, but how previously he had not known that Harry was destined for such a wand.

“Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew,” Ollivander continued with a solemn nod. “Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember...I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter...After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great.”

 

~*~

 

The experience with Ollivander had left Harry feeling as though a rather large stone had been implanted in his stomach. Compounded with the long while it had taken to find the exact wand for him, it became clear to everyone involved that Harry was not up for beginning his tutoring that day.

“I'll just leave these books for you to look over if you'd like,” the girl, Hermione, said cheerfully as she stacked a large pile of books onto the coffee table. “You don't need to if you don't feel ready for it, Harry,” she continued, her voice softening to a meek little whisper when Severus fixed his eyes upon her in a withering glare, as though her giving Harry homework was some kind of punishable offence. “Just, if you want, I'll leave them here, and I'll be back in a few days for your first proper lesson. Is that all right?”

“Fine,” Harry replied without looking up, his eyes still on the wand in his hands. He hadn't let go of it since Ollivander had told him who he shared his wand core with, and the knowledge that Voldemort was dead and gone brought him little comfort. He felt diseased— _wrong_. How could he possibly use a wand that was connected to such _evil?_

A soft _whoosh_ drew Harry slowly from his thoughts, and when he glanced up, he saw that he and Severus were alone once again.

This realization caused Harry to relax, if only a little, though a renewed sense of calm at last asserted itself when Severus sat at Harry's side, and pulled him in to scent him.

“Would you like to tell me what's on your mind, Harry?” Severus murmured, stroking Harry's hair gently as the omega relaxed into the embrace. “You have been very quiet ever since receiving your wand.”

“I just...” Harry trailed off, and sighed. He forced himself to set the wand on the coffee table, and immediately he felt a little bit calmer. “I thought getting a wand would be _brilliant_ , and now there's all this extra bollocks of it being connected to... _him_. I haven't even really thought of him, or my parents, or anything, for a long time. Keeping myself and this child safe has been my focus, but...”

Harry let out a growl as he fell silent. He was just so _frustrated_. How could he put into words what he was feeling, so that Severus could understand it? How could he explain how this wand made him feel so wrong, and so _tainted_?

“The wand chooses the wizard, Harry, that has always been true, but the wand does not _make_ the wizard,” Severus said softly, but firmly. “You have been a strong young man—you always have been. Not everyone could endure what you have and come out of it with such clarity of mind. You will always have a connection to the Dark Lord, it would be foolish to think you do not, after facing him as you did. Your connection however does not mean that you are _like_ him.”

“Are you sure about that?” Harry asked uncertainly, biting his lip as he gazed up at Severus, and he offered Harry another one of his rare smiles.

“As I imparted earlier today, you are very much like your mother,” Severus said, his voice hesitant, as though he did not really wish to say such a thing, but seemed to understand that by the same token, Harry needed to hear it. “Like her, I believe that you would never be capable of such cruelty.”

Harry felt his heart warm at the sincerity behind Severus's words. He wrapped his arms around Severus's middle in a hug, one which seemed to startle the alpha as he jumped a little. After a moment he seemed to relax, and pulled Harry into the embrace, once more banishing Harry's demons to the very recesses of his mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Most of the Ollivander dialogue comes directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Book).


	10. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for October 15th. Enjoy!

Chapter Nine – Dreams

 

“Remember—swish and  _ flick _ ,” Hermione said, and Harry ground his teeth, though he did his best to not let his annoyance show on his face as he followed her instructions, swishing and flicking as hard as he could.

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa! _ ”

The feather lay immobile on the table, and his tutor frowned at him.

“I've told you, Harry, it's Levi _ o _ sa, not Levios _ a _ . Watch.”

Hermione whipped out her wand, and Harry watched as she incanted the spell (using the exact same intonation as Harry had) and it floated off the table effortlessly, drifting towards the ceiling as though caught in a breeze.

Harry slammed down his wand with a huff, making Hermione frown at him again, though she did not appear at all startled by his outburst. Perhaps this was because this wasn't his first magic-related hissy fit, but he couldn't be entirely certain.

“Harry, please,” Hermione said as she set down her wand. Severus swept into the sitting room at the same moment, his eyes narrowed as though prepared to jump in if he thought Harry was being in any way mistreated. Harry noted how her posture straightened a little, as though Severus's presence was somehow making her nervous, though she still pressed on with the lesson regardless. “I've told you over and over—during pregnancy, a wizard's magical ability is somewhat weakened because so much energy is put into keeping your baby alive and well. It does not mean you are a bad wizard in any way for struggling with simple spells, but you  _ must  _ concentrate.”

“But I  _ am  _ concentrating!” Harry countered as he crossed his arms and glared at his wand, which he longed to slam down again. “Face it—I'm just rubbish at this whole magic thing.”

“You're  _ not  _ rubbish,” Hermione insisted, her voice softening to something more consoling, and for some reason it made Harry irrationally angry. He wanted to leap out of his seat in anger, but at five, almost six months into his pregnancy, the progression from sitting to standing was much harder to accomplish with any sense of finesse, and instead he had to press his palms to the armrest of the sofa, and grunted as he stood before he began to pace in front of the coffee table, his hands in his hair. 

“Miss Granger,” Severus said, his voice soft and smooth in the quiet of the space, and yet it still caused the brunette to jump. “Leave us for a moment.”

Hermione scrambled to her feet and hastened to the kitchen, leaving Harry and Severus alone together. The alpha did not wait, and swept forward in order to gather Harry into his arms, then gently, but insistently coaxed the omega's face into the crook of his neck, encouraging Harry to scent him. 

Harry felt his entire body sag with relief at the closeness of Severus, his fingers twining in the front of the alpha's robes while he pet Harry's hair gently and consolingly, a soft, almost imperceptible rumble escaping his throat, somewhere between a purr and a growl.

It was a vocalization of reassurance, one alphas were famous for—a plea for their omega to trust in them and find calm, rather than a command of some kind.

Harry had heard that the use of such a vocalization was something reserved for lovers, but he was glad that that didn't seem to be true. The sound was so calming, it almost made Harry want to weep. 

Harry did not know how long he clung to Severus. He whispered consolingly into Harry's ear—soothing, nonsensical things, rather than any real words. Severus's initial goal seemed to be keeping Harry calm, rather than pushing him towards resuming the interrupted lesson. Unfortunately, Harry knew that he would have to get back to it eventually, something Severus seemed to sense at almost the same moment that Harry did as he gently asked, “do you think you're ready to resume your lesson?”

Harry didn't want to; he was so  _ tired  _ of feeling like a failure where his magic was concerned. 

However, he did not wish for Severus to realize that he'd been taking care of someone who was rubbish at such basic things, and reluctantly, he nodded.

 

~*~

 

The remainder of the lesson went about as well as could be expected when Harry's confidence was in tatters. Hermione remained optimistic however, encouraging Harry with a similar patience to Severus when he would get frustrated at the slow progress. In many ways, Harry felt as though learning magic was rather a lot like his recovery process thus far— _ slow _ . 

“Well, I'll be back the day after tomorrow for your next lesson, Harry,” Hermione said cheerily, gathering up her supplies into a little beaded bag before she stepped towards Severus's fireplace. “Maybe try to practice the Levitation Charm a little with Professor Snape's help—you don't need to master it, just practice. And if you are feeling up to it, read Chapter Five in the text on Transfiguration I left you. Along with Charms, we're going to work on some Transfiguration next time, all right?”

“Fine,” Harry replied, doing his best to sound normal, but the word ground its way from his throat more coarsely than he'd intended, showing both his support and tutor just how dejected he was feeling about his lack of progress.

Hermione smiled weakly, and with one last nod goodbye, she helped herself to a pinch of Floo powder, and disappeared in a whirl of green flame.

Harry slumped onto the sofa the moment she'd gone, and Severus was quick to replace Harry's proposed homework with a tea tray, complete with blueberry scones and clotted cream.

The sweet pastry scent made Harry sigh in relief as he helped himself to a scone, which he topped with far too much clotted cream, as well as a cup of tea. Severus sat next to him silently, as though he was wordlessly inviting the omega to speak, but Harry did not indulge him for several long minutes. Instead, Harry all but inhaled the scone in three large bites, helped himself to a second one, and as he picked at it, he at last began to speak.

“I like Hermione,” Harry said, “even though I know you don't.”

“I never said that I don't like her,” Severus replied, which caused Harry to snort.

“Did the term  _ insuffering know-it-all  _ become a compliment when I wasn't looking or something?” Harry teased, the words jumping from his mouth before he could fully think them through, but instead of Severus becoming irritated by the snarky remark, for some reason, it caused the alpha to smile, even as Harry continued to speak. “Besides, you always get this... _ look  _ on your face when you're around her for more than five minutes, like you've sucked a lemon or something. I'm just glad you put up with her, because even though she's kind of annoying with how positive she is about me eventually getting the hang of things, she really is a good teacher.”

“You will master your magic, Harry,” Severus said, pointedly not touching on Harry's remark that Severus did not like Hermione, in spite of how obvious it was. To his words, Harry let out a soft, disbelieving huff. “You  _ will _ ,” he repeated, a bite of annoyance in his voice, but as he cleared his throat, the alpha's frustration vanished even before Harry could think to fear it. “If you can respond with sarcasm to me without fear of retribution, then you can master the arts of wizardry. You have many hurdles to overcome, and it is entirely possible that they have created a mental block, in addition to the usual magical weakness that comes with pregnancy. That does not mean that you are powerless for the remainder of your term—all it means that it will require more concentration to master simple spells.”

“Should I have waited until after the baby came before I started my lessons?” Harry asked dejectedly, his mouth twisted into a grimace. He didn't like that idea any better than he liked thinking on how rubbish he seemed to be at magic. “Even though I  _ really _ wanted to get started, I hate feeling like I'm making no progress much more than doing nothing at all.”

Severus shifted a little closer, the outside of their thighs touching gently. The touch of a familiar  _ safe  _ alpha made Harry sigh blissfully, and a distinct omega purr slipped past his lips when Severus began to pet his hair. 

Severus was silent for a long moment, teasing Harry's unruly locks while they each nursed their cups of tea, until at last he said, “I had intended to take on your potion-making tutelage myself—I do not trust Miss Granger's skill with the art. It does not require the same sort of ability—it is an exact science, with no wand-waving or silly incantations. Perhaps it would be preferable to spell-casting for the moment.”

“Can I think about it?” Harry ventured, and when he turned to gaze at Severus, he was offered a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Take all the time you need, Harry.”

 

~*~

 

_ “Can I think about it?” Harry ventured, and when he turned to gaze at Severus, he was offered a small, almost imperceptible smile. _

_ Severus's smile seemed almost to broaden, a warmth in his dark eyes that Harry had never seen before illuminated his features. The hand in Harry's hair travelled to his chin, almost tickling it as his gaze was gently coaxed up until their eyes met. Harry's breath caught. _

_ Severus leant in slowly. Harry had been fairly certain they'd both been sporting teacups, and yet quite suddenly, he found his hands free. He pressed his palms to his knees, not certain what to do with them. He waited, his breath still and heart thundering with anticipation. _

_ Severus's lips brushed over Harry's, the kiss soft, exploratory, and tender. _

 

Harry jolted awake.

For once, Harry was eternally grateful that Severus had not come running, though perhaps this was due to the fact that he had not woken up from a nightmare—at least, not in the strictest sense. His hand clamped over his racing heart, Harry gazed up at the dark ceiling, breathing hard, his mind a muddle of confusion and vague arousal.

He didn't know what to do; it wasn't like Harry could  _ tell  _ Severus about this. Most likely, Harry could guess that it was his brain mixing up affection and appreciation, and he didn't want to disgust Severus with this information. At the same time, he didn't want to risk having the alpha think that Harry's wayward subconscious was an opening for him to  _ try  _ anything.

Or, worse, a reason to send him away.

Harry drew his knees to his chest, which did not work quite so well with his pregnant belly in the way. His breath escaped his lungs in shaky, trembling gasps, while he tried to work through what he was thinking and feeling.

_ Okay,  _ Harry thought as he continued to breathe methodically,  _ I've been here for almost two months now. Severus has been great with me. He takes care of me. He's never tried anything, not even when I'm at my most needy. He's always been careful to keep me at an arm's length. _

Careful.

What an odd choice of word.

Harry bit his lip. Was it his own thoughts conjuring that particular word, or was it what Severus was doing? Was he being cautious to  _ not  _ overstep his bounds, not out of respect, but for some other reason?

_ That's stupid,  _ Harry thought, shaking his head furiously, as though the motion might dislodge the thought from his mind.  _ I'm broken. No one says it, but I know it's true. Once I'm healthy again, once I no longer need a support, no one will ever want me like that. I'm damaged goods, after what Macnair did. My dreams are just...hoping. _

Harry forced himself to lie back down, not quite certain what he meant by  _ hoping _ .

He jammed his eyes shut, and tried to get back to sleep.

 

~*~

 

The following morning, Harry woke feeling groggy and unwell, having struggled to sleep after waking up from the confusing dream the night before.

If Severus noticed, he didn't say anything, but pointedly added a few extra fried eggs and sausages to Harry's plate, as though the extra food might somehow make him feel better.

After he ate, Harry sequestered himself back in his bedroom with a sheet of paper and a pen (Harry stubbornly refused to use parchment and quills) and drafted a short letter to Gemma.

 

_ Gemma, _

_ I know you said I could contact you about anything, so here goes. _

_ Last night I had a dream.  _

_ It wasn't a nightmare of memories like normal, it was...different. I don't know what it means. It was a memory of a conversation I had with Severus, one we had in the middle of the day, but the dream version of it ended...differently. Instead of him just reassuring me, in the dream version...he kissed me. _

_ Please don't tell him. I don't want Severus to think I'm a freak, but I needed to tell someone, or I feel like I might explode. I'm just scared what this means, because in the dream...it wasn't forced, and I'm afraid this means I might have to change supports or something. The idea of leaving Severus feels worse than...than anything. _

_ Please, please don't tell him. I just didn't think I could wait until our next session to talk about it. _

_ Harry _

 

Harry folded up the letter several times, perhaps more than necessary. He then tucked it inside of an envelope, and sealed it with sellotape, which he noted was called  _ spellotape  _ for some odd reason.

  
With the letter hugged tightly to his chest, Harry headed back downstairs, only to realize that though he knew Owl Post existed, he wasn't entirely certain how it worked. Facing Severus at the moment was more daunting than he'd expected it to be, but he'd rather the support think he was acting a little odd, rather than risk the letter winding up at the wrong person's home.

“All right,” Harry whispered to himself as he stepped over to Severus's laboratory door, “just relax...I can do this.”

He knocked on the door. The first knock was shaky and soft, but the latter two were more pronounced. Distantly, Harry heard the soft thunk of something being set down, and a moment later Severus was at the door, his hair pulled from his face with an elastic, and dressed once more in his brewing robes, as he called them—the voluminous robes that covered every inch of the older man's body.

“Harry?” he prompted when the omega did not immediately speak. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” Harry replied, but the word escaped him almost as a gasp, making Severus raise his eyebrows inquiringly, and he tried again. “Er...yes. Yes, I'm fine. I just...I need to send a—a letter, and...I...er...”

_ I don't know how _ .

“Come with me, Harry,” Severus said instead, sparing Harry of finding the right words, he resting a hand consolingly on Harry's shoulder for a moment before he stepped out and shut the laboratory door behind him. He guided Harry to the kitchen, where a handsome great grey owl was dozing on a perch by the window, but its eyes opened the moment that Harry and Severus stepped inside.

“All you have to do is affix the letter to the owl's leg, and tell her who the letter is for. She won't hurt you; Mira is a very docile creature,” Severus explained patiently as he stepped forward, stopping next to the owl, before he held out a hand to Harry in invitation. “Would you like to try petting her?” 

“Er, okay,” Harry replied, for a moment almost telling Severus that he had never pet a bird before, but at the same time, he thought that that was rather obvious, given how nervous he clearly was as he stepped towards the enormous bird hesitantly.

Mira clicked her beak once, her head cocking a little as she watched Harry's approach. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, and, if Harry was being honest with himself, almost a little creepy. 

Harry reached out a hand slowly so that the bird would see him coming, and he hoped that he was doing it correctly—he  _ really  _ didn't want to get bitten by such a big animal. 

To his surprise however, once Harry's hand was within range, the owl merely nudged his fingers gently, as though demanding to be pet. 

“Oh,” Harry said, the word escaping him in surprise as his fingers disappeared into the warm, thick feathers. The owl let out a little coo, as though she was enjoying the attention. “She's...not so bad.”

“Indeed,” Severus agreed with a soft chuckle as he watched the exchange. “She spends most of her time outside, which is why I have not introduced you to her before. However, with the onset of autumn, I daresay you shall be seeing more of her.”

Severus turned as though he intended to leave, and Harry let out a small noise, which caused the older man to stop and arch a brow at Harry in question.

“Is something the matter, Harry?”

“Er...I just...” Harry trailed off. “Don't you...I mean, you're not going to ask who I am trying to contact?”

Severus's curious expression seemed to fall, and it was replaced by something not unlike pity, which caused Harry to blink with confusion. What had he done to warrant such a look?

“This is not a prison, Harry,” Severus replied gently, almost consolingly. “You are welcome to stay however long you want, but concurrently you are welcome to  _ leave  _ whenever you want. There is no restriction on who you are permitted to contact, nor is it my business. Your letters are fully your own.”

“Oh.” 

Harry didn't quite know what else to say, and he watched silently as Severus nodded once, and left the room. 

Harry listened to Severus's retreating footsteps, and he found himself amazed that Severus did not at any point slow down or stop walking in order to listen in, as though he truly did not care to find out who Harry was trying to contact. 

Harry found himself smiling, the knot of tension in his back fading away almost immediately, and he turned his full attention back to the owl. 

“Er...can you bring this to Gemma? Gemma Perkins? She's at the Omega Recovery Clinic,” Harry explained, feeling quite foolish for talking to an owl, but he was given a shock when the owl hooted as though in confirmation that she understood, and extended her leg for him to affix the letter to it.

Harry smiled in relief as he grabbed some twine from the kitchen counter and used to it secure the letter in place. Mira hooted at him one more time before she spread her wings, and flew out of the open kitchen window.

 

~*~

 

Harry had felt relieved that he'd gotten the worry out of his system, and went about his day as normal, perhaps even more cheerfully than usual. 

He even felt well enough to practice his spells with Severus, though unfortunately, he couldn't do much more than get the feather an inch or two off the table. Severus was forced to inform him that blowing on the feather in order to make it move—sadly—did not count, and once again reminded him of his suggestion of trying out some potions lessons, though Harry once again dithered on that particular point, and offered Severus a non-committal sort of answer.

 

Harry went to bed early that night after a sumptuous meal of roast chicken and pumpkin, and his dreams were blessedly free of scenes with Severus. 

When Harry got up the following morning, excited to see if Gemma had responded yet, he found a surprise for him upon the kitchen's owl perch.

Offering him a doleful hoot in greeting, upon the perch sat a beautiful snowy owl, with a bow affixed to her foreleg.

When Harry moved closer, he found that the red ribbon also bore a note, which erupted a flurry of butterfly wings in his stomach, and he bit his lip as he fought back joyous tears.

 

_ Every wizard needs an owl of their own. _

_ – Severus _


	11. Attachment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the lateness, guys :) This one is a little short, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Next update is scheduled for October 29th.

Chapter Ten – Attachment

 

_ Dear Harry, _

_ What you must understand is that as one heals, especially someone who has experienced trauma like yours, it is very common for that person to latch on to the first person who shows them any sort of kindness. That does not make it wrong, but it merely means your mind is having a little trouble processing your trauma. Sometimes, this will cause you to mix up love and affection with the kindness of a person who is trying to help you.  _

_ I don't mean to sound cold, Harry. What I am trying to explain is that it is perfectly normal for you to mix these emotions up right now. We can discuss it more at your next visit. Severus is very close to you at the moment, both emotionally and physically, and you have compatible scents. When it comes to that mixture of instinct, trauma, and healing, it is natural for your mind to get confused as to what Severus's affection might mean.  _

_ Again, I am not trying to dismiss your feelings. It's a complicated situation, and I'll be happy to talk about it more the next time I see you. I just want you to remember that your mind is still healing, and it may jump to an odd conclusion that you may not have consciously thought of. It's not right or wrong, it is just how these things manifest sometimes. _

_ Do your best to not agonize over it, all right? I know it might be hard, but the best you can do right now is reason with yourself, perhaps a mantra before you go to sleep. Remind yourself who Severus is to you. He is your support. Not your lover. _

_ I'll see you next week, _

_ Gemma _

 

Harry stepped into the clinic that week with the letter stuffed deeply into his jeans pocket. He hadn't wanted Severus to see it by accident, but by the same token Harry wanted to have it handy so that he could reference it when he spoke to Gemma.

He was so focused on the upcoming session that he only half-listened to his new general healer, Judy Cotton as they went through his check-up. 

Unfortunately, his dazed, half listening state did not help him when she asked about Blood Adoption, and Harry responded, “yes—wait, no, not yet.”

She had been asking about a possible donor, and if he had selected one. Clearly, someone (Severus, probably) had mentioned his interest in the procedure to her, though Harry couldn't remember just how many people knew that he was thinking about it.

In truth, he had someone in mind, but in light of his recent dream, now Harry was worried that asking would cause some sort of misunderstanding between them.

Harry's eyes shifted to Severus, and he felt his face warm. Ever since Severus had told him about the procedure, Harry had been planning to ask him to be the donor, but now that that dream had happened,  _ could  _ he?

“I just...I think I need to think about it a little more,” Harry mumbled to his knees, and his healer nodded her head.

“You don't have to do it if you don't want to, Harry,” Healer Cotton said patiently as she offered Harry a reassuring smile, which he returned easily. He liked her much more than Wise—she never dismissed his feelings or requests, and had even promised to put him down for a hysterectomy at the same time as his C-Section, but told him that if he changed his mind, he would not be faulted for cancelling the procedure.

“I feel like I need to,” Harry admitted with a wince. “I don't really want to discuss it, I'm  _ tired  _ of discussing it, but I don't think I'd be able to raise a child that was half... _ him. _ ”

“I understand,” Cotton said with a nod of her head, and she brushed a few strands of red hair from her eyes as she spoke. “We consider the best time to enact that sort of procedure to be during the eighth month, but no later than thirty-six weeks at the latest. So, you have about ten weeks, or two and a half months to decide. We have lists of no-contact blood adoption donors if you prefer, if you don't have a particular donor in mind.”

“What's a no-contact blood...thing?” Harry asked, blinking a little at her. He was exhausted from both the pregnancy and his anxiety over The Dream, and though he knew that he  _ needed  _ to ask, he was having a bit of trouble keeping his focus on the conversation.

“Think of it like a sperm donor in the muggle world,” Cotton explained patiently. “The alpha donates their blood and semen to the clinic, and we keep it frozen and on file as needed. They are not allowed to contact the birth parent or child, unless, of course, the child wishes to meet them after they come of age at seventeen. Many omegas who fall pregnant due to rape opt for this course of action, as they don't need to rely on any alpha that they might know, and who may perhaps cause problems after the child is born, such as insisting on partial custody or things of that nature.”

“I'll need to think on it,” Harry said evasively, unwilling to look at Severus directly as he spoke, though he could not help but peer at him from the corner of his eye. 

Harry hadn't really known what he'd expected—perhaps because Severus was his support, the alpha may have felt that it was his right to blood-adopt Harry's unborn child. Yet Severus's expression was calm and impassive, visibly unruffled by Harry's response, as though he did not care one way or the other how Harry chose to deal with his pregnancy.

Harry had no idea how he felt about that.

 

The rest of the check-up went well, and Harry was gifted with the image of his baby during the Birth-Image scan, which caused him to smile weakly. Seeing them still filled Harry with an odd sort of warmth, despite the knowledge of how they came into being.

Harry pushed that last thought away. He knew that it wasn't healthy to dwell on the fact that his baby was a product of rape. It wasn't their fault, and Harry hoped he could remember that when the time came for the C-section.

 

Harry was almost relieved when the visit was over, and he could  _ finally  _ go see Gemma. He did his best to act naturally as Severus guided him down to the Mind Healing wing of the clinic, though he didn't miss how Severus eyed him oddly once or twice, as though he could see right through Harry's vain attempt at a lax attitude. 

Despite Severus's clear curiosity over Harry's demeanour, he said nothing, and guided Harry to Gemma's office in silence. He informed Harry that he'd be waiting outside when he finished, and Harry murmured his thanks, while managing a smile at the alpha before he finally slipped into the office. 

“Oh Lord, am I glad to see you,” Harry said when the door shut, and Gemma let out a warm laugh.

“I assume that means my pleas for you to not worry about the dream went unheeded?” she teased, and Harry snorted. 

“That's one way of putting it,” Harry replied as he sat down heavily upon the sofa, and grabbed one of the biscuits that Gemma had laid out for him and crammed it into his mouth. “I just...I can't let it go. The confusing part is that the kiss itself wasn't upsetting, I just...I'm worried.”

“Worried about what exactly?” Gemma asked as she sat opposite him, and poured herself a cup of tea. She sipped it, and patiently waited for Harry to respond.

“Part of me feels like I should tell him...or that he'll find out somehow...or both. What if he sees that as some sort of...opening? Like, if I tell him and he thinks that that'll make it okay to...to...”

Harry broke off and shuddered. Despite what his subconscious might be telling him, he  _ knew  _ that he wasn't ready for that sort of intimacy.

“Harry, I need you to remember what I said in my letter before we dive in to your concerns, all right?” Gemma said gently while she gazed across at Harry, imploring him with her eyes to  _ not  _ panic, though in Harry's opinion it seemed a little late for that. 

“All right,” he agreed, finishing a second biscuit before he picked up his teacup, if nothing else but for something to do with his hands. 

“First off, I need to remind you that what happens in your subconscious as you dream is not an indicator of future events,” Gemma said gently. “If you dreamed about flying a hot air balloon to Mars, it doesn't mean you actually wish to do it, right?”

“Er...right.”

“Dreams are a means for processing what happens to us during our waking hours,” Gemma continued, and she offered Harry a soft, reassuring smile. “As I said in my letter, you in particular have a  _ lot  _ to process. Healing from trauma like this takes a long time and a lot of work, and it is very common for people in your situation to have your mind jumble up the kindness of someone who is helping you with intimate thoughts or feelings. That is not to say you will never find someone to love, Harry. In time, on your own terms, you will find love and perhaps a willingness to be intimate with someone. You don't have to if you don't want to; intimacy is something that you should only ever do if you truly want it, but right now your mind is still trying to find the a sense of balance between those two emotions—kindness and intimacy. That is something to try and remember when you find yourself worrying about something you dream of.”

“I know all that,” Harry grumbled. “You said so in the letter. It just...it's sort of hard to believe, but at the same time I know it's true. Someone as wonderful as Severus would  _ never  _ stoop to my level.”

“Stoop to your level?” Gemma asked, sounding truly curious as she tilted her head to the side slightly. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean...Severus is so  _ smart  _ and  _ kind _ and...”  _ and handsome _ , Harry thought, though he didn't dare voice the last part aloud. “And I'm just...ruined. I'm broken. No one will ever care for me, not like he does, and his kindness is just false, isn't it? It's his  _ job _ as a support to take care of me.”

“It's true that it's his job, but he is also a successful Potioneer and former Potions Professor, so if it was just a job, or just about the money, I am certain that there would be other avenues he could pursue were that the case,” Gemma said gently, almost consolingly. “Instead of a more prestigious vocation, he elected to be a Support Alpha. Despite how he tries to present himself, he truly wants to help you, Harry; he  _ cares  _ for you. If he didn't care, your subconscious would never hold him in such a high regard. Added to that, he doesn't have to do half of the things he has done for you. He never had to get you an owl, he never had to provide you with an overabundance of nesting materials, and he never had to offer you Potions lessons—he could have simply left that to your tutor. He does care for you, Harry. Severus has never been a man who offers up kindness easily, and yet he's done so for you.”

“Does that mean that...he feels the same? About something like me?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, in particular when Gemma's calm, reassuring visage seemed to fall, and something not unlike pity replaced it.

“Before I answer, Harry, why did you say some _ thing _ ?”

“That's what... _ he  _ always called me,” Harry mumbled. “Said I was broken. I'm not an omega, or a man, or anything. Just a  _ thing _ .”

“Macnair was a monster, Harry,” Gemma replied gently. “He terrorized you for ten years, he took so much away from you. You refused to let him break you; you refused to bow to his vision for you. Why now would you let him take away your humanity too?”

“I'm just so...so  _ tired _ ,” Harry whispered, his voice breaking a little as a sob began to bubble up in his throat, and it took great effort to tamp it back down again. When he next spoke, his voice shook so badly that he could barely get the words out. “I...can we stop for a moment? I just...I don't know what I need.”

“I think I do,” Gemma replied as she stood up, and moved past Harry in order to peer out of the door as she said, “would you mind coming in for a moment? I think Harry needs some extra support today.”

Harry looked up through glassy eyes. He didn't even fully understand why he was so upset—many times before he'd managed to weather his memories of Macnair without batting an eye, and yet, impossibly, this time, Harry just  _ couldn't  _ do it. 

As this realization began to take hold of him, suddenly Severus was there. 

“Scent me, Harry,” Severus murmured softly and encouragingly, the words for Harry's ears alone. “None of this is real. The fear you feel is a memory. Scent me, and come back to us.”

The words were a request, not a demand. That was what Harry recognized first. He moved in close, and wrapped his arms tightly around Severus's neck before he buried his face the hollow of his throat.

Harry trembled as he clung to his alpha.

_ No,  _ Harry reminded himself,  _ my Support, not my alpha. He's not mine, not really. _

The thought made him feel, if possible, even worse. He whimpered, even as Severus rubbed his back and cooed to him with soft, reassuring sounds. 

“Just breathe, Harry,” Severus murmured gently into his ear, the older man's breath brushing Harry's cheek and making him shiver. “Whatever has you upset, it is in the past. I'm here, and I shall not leave you.”

Harry squeezed his eyes more tightly shut; he wished he could believe it.

 

~*~

 

After Severus left and Harry felt marginally calmer, he and Gemma resumed their session. She did her best to address everything Harry was feeling, but he didn't feel like her reassurances helped all that much. She was doing her job, and he still liked her methods for talking with him, but despite that, he still felt utterly miserable.

He was falling in love with Severus.

He knew it, despite the fact that Gemma continued to claim that it was his brain mixing things up, made worse by all the pregnancy hormones rushing through him and making him  _ extra  _ crazy.

Harry could practically hear Gemma chastising him for mentally referring to himself as crazy, but he couldn't find it in himself to care—he was completely and utterly barmy, why did he need to sugarcoat it?

Unfortunately, the tragedy of his day did not end there. For the first time, and to Harry's ever-mounting misery, Gemma concluded their session by assigning Harry  _ homework _ .

“I'd like you to try keeping a journal,” Gemma said, and she smiled when Harry made a face at that. “You don't need to show it to me, or to Severus, or anyone, for that matter. It's just for you. Some people who have suffered through trauma find it very helpful to sift through your feelings and memories by putting them down on paper. You can use it as a means to examine your memories and feelings, or as a place to put them, perhaps as a form of release.”

“That sounds...kind of exhausting, if I'm being honest,” Harry muttered, and Gemma offered him a sad sort of smile.

“Try it until our next meeting in a fortnight. If you don't feel better, I won't encourage you to continue. How does that sound?”

Harry did not fail to note that she was not telling him unequivocally to do it, like some kind of command. Her wording paired with her gentle, hopeful expression gave Harry the impression that she was  _ asking  _ him to do it, like a parent might  _ ask  _ a child to take a bath, knowing that even if they didn't want to get wet, they'd feel better afterwards.

And despite how cranky and tired Harry currently was, he was certain that if Gemma was suggesting it, she really did think that at the end of the exercise, Harry would, indeed, feel better.

“All right,” Harry said at last, “I'll give it a shot.”

 

~*~

 

Harry had, somewhat dismissively, told Severus about his 'homework' in a tone that implied that he thought it was idiotic.

“It may be a good idea, Harry.” Severus replied as he led Harry from the clinic and back to the car. “To have a safe space to put down feelings that you don't feel comfortable sharing can be a very healthy way to help yourself.”

“You sound like you're speaking from experience,” Harry noted, and though Severus did not respond verbally to Harry's remark, he did offer the omega a small, enigmatic smile. 

Despite Severus's evasiveness of the topic of journaling, there was a handsome leather-bound notebook and ordinary pen sitting waiting on the writing desk in Harry's bedroom when they got home.

Though the gesture was kind, Harry could not decide if it had been planned between Severus and Gemma or not, and he did not enjoy the suspicion that presently accompanied his thoughts of Severus. 

The owl that Severus had gifted Harry with, now named Hedwig from one of the texts Hermione had left him, was sitting on a perch by Harry's window, and she hooted softly in greeting. 

“Hey, Hedwig,” Harry said as he moved towards her, and ran his fingers through her soft feathers, which she seemed to enjoy. “I had a bollocks day at the clinic, in case you're wondering.”

Hedwig pressed her beak against his hand in response, almost as though she was trying to comfort him, and Harry laughed a little as he sat down and stared at the notebook, as though it was silently mocking him. 

A cup of tea and a few biscuits appeared next to the notebook, and Harry could not help but huff a laugh. Sometimes he didn't understand how a man who was so caring could be so universally hated.

“I s'pose that means he wants me to try using this thing, eh?” Harry asked the owl, and the let out another little hoot in response, as though in agreement. 

Harry huffed again, opened the notebook, and began to write.  


	12. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for November 11th. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: Anxiety Attack, References to Bullying**
> 
> **Note: Going into November I will be participating in NaNoWriMo, otherwise known as National Novel Writing Month. While this rarely conflicts with my fic-writing, if I happen to miss some deadlines coming up this month, that will be why.**

Chapter Eleven – Truth

In the last weeks, Harry had begun to voice a desire to explore more of the surrounding area, but he had been too nervous to go alone. Immediately, Severus offered to take walks with him, starting with treks through the paths in the fields and wooded areas near the house, but always within sight of home—like Severus just  _ knew  _ that Harry wasn't ready to be too far from his safe zone just yet. 

It was during one of these walks that Harry abruptly decided to ask a question that had been niggling at the back of his mind for a while.

“Severus?” he asked, and Harry's small, almost meek voice caused Severus's pace to immediately slow to a stop. 

“Hmm?” he intoned, inviting Harry to speak. The omega hugged his arms around his rotund belly, and he felt the faintest shift of movement from inside even as his nervousness began to flare. His courage failed him, and he voiced the first question that popped into his head.

“Have you...erm...ever...you know... _ been  _ with anyone?” Harry asked awkwardly, and Severus blinked, as though the question had caught him completely off-guard.

“Why do you ask, Harry?”

“Just curious,” Harry replied somewhat evasively, though his bland tone caused Severus's eyebrows to arch in clear suspicion, but thankfully he did not press the issue.

“I have been with a few people in my adult life, though I cannot say I have yet found something that I would call permanent,” he explained as he touched Harry's arm lightly, encouraging him to keep walking. Harry followed his lead, just as Severus repeated, “why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Harry said again, and he shrugged a little. “You know so much about me, but I sometimes feel like I don't know anything about you.”

“Is there something in particular that you would like to know?” Severus asked, arching a brow at him yet again, and Harry fought valiantly against his blush. 

_ Do you feel the same way that I do? _

“Er...well...why do you hide all your art stuff?” Harry asked. “I mean...your paintings are so lovely, and I don't understand why you'd want to hide it.”

“Like your journaling and your visits with Miss Perkins, for me art is a form of therapy,” Severus explained as they walked, passing from the fields and onto one of the woods' many pathways. “I do not paint to  _ show off _ , as it were. And...perhaps...past experience has led me to be disinclined to show my work, if I am to put it mildly.”

“Is that some sort of vague way to say you were made fun of for it?” Harry asked, his voice a little hesitant, and he tensed when Severus eyed him critically, a cold look in his gaze that Harry had never seen before.

“Yes,” Severus replied at last, turning away from Harry as they moved. “Unfortunately, boys can be cruel—teenage boys, doubly so.”

“Oh,” Harry said, bowing his head a little. “I'm sorry. Well, your work is still beautiful. I like the flowers.”

“It is not your fault, and I would encourage you to not apologize for the cruelty of others,” Severus said as he touched Harry's back gently. “Come, let's find a cheerier topic.”

“Okay.” Harry paused, chewing his lip, while they paused in their walk yet again, just as a fox shot across the path up ahead, which caused Harry to smile faintly. Unfortunately, it didn't aid him in finding a new subject for them to talk about.

“Have you started to consider baby names yet?” Severus asked, the tone of his voice delicate, like he was trying to imply that Harry didn't have to talk about it if he didn't want to. “Or donors for the Blood Adoption?”

Harry cast a glance to Severus, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. Instead, he shrugged before he said, “no clue. Everything I come up with sounds stupid to me. How do I name a baby after what I went through to end up with it?”

“No one is forcing you to keep this child, Harry,” Severus reminded him gently. “If you feel that strongly, we can always offer them up for adoption. You needn't even  _ see  _ them during the birth if you truly don't want to.”

“No, I do, it's just confusing,” Harry explained, wincing a little as he spoke. “Sometimes I'm excited to see my baby, but other times I remember where they came from and I just get so... _ angry _ . I don't want to be angry at my child, it's not their fault that this happened...”

“Have you spoken to Gemma about these feelings?”

“Yeah, dozens of times,” Harry replied. “She always says that that's why she keeps encouraging me to talk about  _ him _ , and the journaling and everything, just get everything out and burn all the anger out of me now so that it doesn't affect the baby when they come...” Harry trailed off, and shook his head. “I just...it's so hard, and there's so much of it. He took so  _ much  _ from me, and I'm terrified that he'll take away any happy new parent time from me too.”

“Harry,” Severus said, his voice so hard that it jolted Harry to an abrupt stop, and he watched as the older man swept in front of him and crouched down until they were eye to eye. Severus's large hands gripped Harry's shoulders tightly, but not painfully. It did not feel like a forceful act, but rather like Severus was trying to ensure that he had the omega's full attention.

“He only has that power if you  _ let  _ him have it,” Severus said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “The only thing left of Macnair is your memories of him. He is dead and gone. No part of him still exists. He is less than a phantom. You have proven your strength time and again—do not allow him to win now.”

 

~*~

 

_ Severus carried me home. _

_ I suppose he's used to it by now—if I don't overtax myself and get too exhausted to head back, it's some emotional bollocks that wears me out. This time it was the latter. _

_I'm so fed up with a dead man controlling my life—someone I don't even_ _want_ _controlling my life._

_ I'm supposed to have my scheduled C-secton in about a month and a half. In that time I'm supposed to pick a donor for the Blood Adoption, and possibly pick out a name for this kid. The Blood Adoption is probably more important though.  _

_ I think it might actually help me if I do it as soon as I can. Maybe the knowledge that Macnair's seed or however you want to phrase it is fully burned out of me, I'll feel better about having this kid. Severus used some kind of magic spell to add a room onto mine, this one with an actual door. It's a nursery, and he's been really keen on making sure I had full control of the décor. I think it's one of his weird ways of making me feel like I have some kind of handle on my own life, which is nice, if a bit overwhelming at the same time.  _

_ It's nice though. We've got an oak crib and blankets with teddy bears all over it, and Severus went a little overboard with toys for the baby—mostly stuffed animals, and more than enough clothing and cloth nappies. The walls are this spring green, with this wallpaper border around the top of the walls near the ceiling with all sorts of wildlife on it—birds and foxes and deer and things. And because it's magic they frolic, it's like watching a film.  _

_ I also wrote a letter to my godparents. I haven't sent it yet. Severus thinks I should, but whenever my godparents come up, he gets this sort of constipated look on his face, and I don't know what it means. _

_ I know I'm feeling better, but I don't know if I'm ready for too much excitement just yet. I get anxious enough when I get post from that old Merlin-type bloke...Dumbledore. And he's not even asking anything of me, just checking in to see how I'm settling in and stuff like that.  _

_ This is too much, I need to stop writing now. _

 

Harry pulled back, his breath rattling in his lungs as he dropped the pen. It clattered across the writing desk before it fell to the floor, but Harry didn't bother to pick it back up. 

Harry cradled his head in his hands as he tried to control his breathing, rocking back and forth, and within minutes he heard a gentle but firm tapping upon the frame of his door, and he let out a needy whine. 

The sound was an indication that Severus could come in, something he and his support had worked out weeks ago when Harry's panic became so strong that words utterly failed him. At times like this, Harry was grateful for the code, in particular when he felt the warmth of Severus embrace him from behind, shushing him gently as he rocked the young man, holding him together even when Harry felt ready to fall apart.

“Shh, Harry,” Severus whispered in his ear as he held the omega. “Find your calm. Whatever it is, we will resolve it.”

_ We _ , Harry noted, even as he silently wept, trembling a little. It was almost like they were a  _ real _ couple. 

 

“Now,” Severus said a few moments later when Harry had at last calmed down, “would you feel comfortable telling me what has you so upset?”

Harry smiled weakly, reassured by Severus's particular wording— _ would you feel comfortable _ . He said it often when Harry was having a meltdown, and often emphasized that Harry never had to talk if he truly didn't want to.

“Just...” Harry took a breath, turning so that he could stand and embrace Severus properly without a chair in the way. The alpha took him into his arms, and Harry shut his eyes as he bathed in the scent of his support. “I was writing about the letter I wrote to my godparents, and then when I thought about sending it...I sort of freaked out.”

“Some tea and some rest is what you might need, I think, and we can find a resolution for this, if you like,” Severus murmured, gently coaxing Harry towards the entryway of the room, his hand against Harry's back, guiding, but never forcing. “If you are feeling up to it, I wish to discuss this, Harry. These panic attacks regarding your family are...concerning.”

He muttered something under his breath, but it was too low for Harry to catch. Again, Harry was struck with the distinct impression that Severus  _ did not like _ his godparents, something that had been worsening his anxiety considerably of late, rather than making Harry feel anywhere in the realm of reassured.

Severus guided Harry to the sitting room. He presented Harry with a soft knit blanket, which Harry wound around himself immediately, comforted by the way Severus's scent seemed to cling to it. 

As Harry got settled, Severus waved his wand, conjuring a tea tray and biscuits, today it being simple shortbread drizzled with milk chocolate, and Severus offered both a cup of tea and a few of the biscuits to Harry, just as a roll of thunder sounded from outside, and icy November rain began to pelt the windows.

“Now, Harry,” Severus said, easing back against the sofa with his own cup of tea, and he allowed the omega to cuddle into his side. “Would you like to tell me what has you so upset regarding your godparents? The omega of the pair...” Severus paused as his lip curled a little, “...he has been annoyingly adamant about seeing you, and I do believe it is only thanks to Albus and his alpha that he is not here now. While he understands that your well-being will always come first, he has never been exactly  _ known  _ for thinking things through and being patient.”

“Lots of people at once still make me uneasy,” Harry began, recalling the scant few times they'd tried to walk to town in recent weeks, only to have Harry panic and Severus would have to carry him home. No, too many people was most certainly an ongoing problem. “And...you don't like them.”

“Why would my opinion of your godparents stop you from contacting them?” Severus asked, and for once his cool demeanour fell entirely, and Harry could hear the clear surprise in his voice. “I am not overly fond of Miss Granger either, and yet I have never seen it give you this sort of distress.”

“It's different,” Harry replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, using the excuse of the tea and biscuits before him as a distraction, and he ate a few followed by sipping his tea in order to gather his thoughts before he continued, “she's just my tutor...or maybe almost a friend. This is supposed to be my  _ family, _ but when they come up...you get this...you get angry. And hurt. Part of me feels like they must be horrible people if they did something to you, because you're so wonderful.”

Harry babbled the explanation out quickly, but it still caused Severus to stare at him for a long moment, a dumbfounded look visible upon his face. His cheeks were dusted the faintest pink, and when Severus looked away, his brow knitted slightly, his eyes began to move rapidly, which gave Harry the impression that he was thinking over something very serious.

_ Have I done something wrong?  _ Harry wondered in a panic, his breath hitching a little, but Severus seemed to notice his mounting anxiety, and shifted, balancing his teacup in one hand while his opposing arm curled around Harry comfortingly.

“Harry, what you must understand is that during my time in school with your godparents, none of us were on the best of terms,” Severus explained, his voice stiff, almost flat, as though he was determined that no emotion colour his words. “I was in Slytherin, as you know, and those two were in Gryffindor, along with your father... _ James _ .”

This time, the name slipped past Severus's lips as little more than a sneer, and the older man shook his head incrementally before he continued, again adopting the flat, emotionless tone of voice as he spoke.

“I will never lie to you, and without any form of exaggeration...they were the bullies. I was their target. My only friend...she...” Severus trailed off, and shook his head again before he resumed speaking. “My only friend was your mother, Lily. She had a beautiful soul, and all she ever wanted to do was be my friend. One day, it all boiled over and I lashed out at her without meaning to. It is something that I regret to this day. However, that altercation was one of the worst encounters I had with your godparents, and it coloured my life for a long time. I held onto that bitterness and anger for more years than I would consider healthy. It was only when I chose to pursue a career as a Support Alpha that I was finally able to let go of so much of my anger—I'd never be able to act as a support with so much rage in me. Unfortunately, some scars will always remain, and despite Albus's reassurances that those two are no longer my enemies, so to speak, it is difficult to think of them and not recall what they did to me during my formative years. 

“Harry, I am telling you all this not in an attempt to make you think less of them, but only to understand my attitude,” Severus explained, not looking at Harry as he spoke. “They are your family, and they love you more than the waking world—nothing could ever change that. Lupin, the alpha, spent years beyond count trying to secure the adoption papers for you and get you away from those muggles. Come hell or high water, he was determined to give you a childhood that you deserved. However, many discriminatory laws stood in his way, not to mention Albus's belief that you were safe with your aunt and uncle...by the time he was able to petition the Wizengamot for your adoption...you were taken.”

“Why wasn't the other one also trying to adopt me?” Harry asked curiously, “Sirius Black...didn't he want to adopt me too?”

“Oh, Black did, very much, but he was in prison.”

Harry's eyes bulged.

“P-Prison?” Harry squeaked out, and Severus nodded his head once.

“He was innocent...of that particular accusation,” Severus replied, the snide remark seeming to slip from his mouth before he could fully think it through, and he rephrased himself. “It is all rather complicated, but Black was accused of a murder he did not commit. Added to that, he was an omega. Placing an omega in prison with no proper segregation was utterly foolish and dangerous on the part of the Ministry. Ultimately, it led to a number of unpleasant encounters for him, ones you, unfortunately, can empathize with.”

Harry shuddered, a wave of sympathy reaching out for this unknown godfather, even as he felt mired in confusion and doubt. Were his godparents good people, or bad people? He wasn't sure anymore.

“I...I think I'm even less certain of what to do than before,” Harry admitted, his appetite vanishing entirely as he set down his remaining tea and biscuits back on the tray, and he tucked himself more securely into Severus's side as he scented him for comfort. “These people...they hurt you. How could they possibly be good if they did  _ that _ ?”

“I am not an innocent party either, after what I did to your mother,” Severus warned as he arched a brow at Harry. Harry noted that Severus never explicitly said what he'd done, but Harry didn't feel confident enough to push the topic. “I do know that all teenagers say and do things that they do not mean in a fit of rage, but neither does that make it excusable. The problem with people is that they can be neither wholly good or wholly bad. They simply... _ are _ .” Severus paused, and ran his long fingers through Harry's hair, the comforting gesture making the omega purr contentedly. “What I hope you will remember is that regardless of my past with your godparents, they love you. They will never harm you—I would not allow it regardless. The only thing they want of you is to  _ know  _ you, Harry. They have no intentions of taking you away, or stripping you of your autonomy. If you are still nervous, remember that a letter is not a meeting. Perhaps impart upon them what you feel ready for. Do not be afraid to set boundaries with them. If it feels overwhelming, I can by all means help you with that.”

As Severus fell silent, Harry mulled his words over for several long moments. The alpha did not rush him towards any sort of response, and they merely sat together quietly, watching as the rain turned to an unpleasant grey sleet, promising that Winter was at last beginning to encroach upon the land. For some reason, the sight made Harry sad, in particular when he knew that there would be no more flowers until the spring.

The random thought made Harry feel oddly dizzy, like his mind was too clogged with fear to properly focus on the topic that they had been discussing. Harry forced himself to shake his head, and thought on what Severus had said, at least as well as he could, before he finally found something of an answer for the alpha.

“I think...I think I need some help, or...or reassurance...or something,” Harry admitted, directing his gaze to his lap as he spoke. “I know I'm not ready to meet them, not yet, but I want to reach out. I want to know these people. But I'm afraid that any letter they'll see as an invitation to barge in here and take me away from you, and...and...I can't leave.”

_ Not ever. _

“Would you feel comfortable if I reached out to Albus on your behalf?” Severus asked. “We can compose the letter together, outlining what boundaries must be respected if we are to open a line of communication between you and your godparents. I have no qualms about reaching out to them directly, but unfortunately those two are unlikely to listen to me, and they actually respect Albus...most of the time, that is.”

“I think that would work,” Harry replied, surprising himself by the sudden surge of happiness he felt jolt through him—he would get to talk to his godparents, and without the risk that something bad might happen. This time, he wouldn't be taken away. It was a good feeling.

Harry smiled, and Severus seemed to relax upon spotting the cheerful look that had overtaken Harry's latest bout of anxiety. He smiled, and offered Harry's teacup back to him, which the omega accepted readily.

“Er...there is one last thing I need to discuss before we get back to our day,” Harry added somewhat hesitantly, and Severus arched a brow at him. 

“Oh? And what might that be?”

Harry swallowed, and took a deep breath. 

If he could find the footing he needed to reach out to his godparents he could do this—he  _ needed  _ to do this.

Steeling himself for a rejection, but hoping desperately for acceptance, Harry finally voiced what he'd truly wanted to ask during their walk today.

“Severus,” Harry said, “I want you to Blood Adopt my child.”


	13. Blood Adoption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Holidays, guys! Thank you so much for your patience during this difficult time. Losing my aunt was really hard, she was like a second mom to me, and so to have the support of all of you was absolutely incredible. The update schedule is getting a bit of an overhaul, and this will be the only update until after the holidays, given that I have no internet at home, so organizing updates around this time of year can be a little tricky. The next update is scheduled for January 12th. 
> 
> **Content Warning: Panic Attack, Dissociation**
> 
> Special thanks to: Just_Me112113, CrazyButIKnowIt, Jynifer996, Crohnswarrior, Bluedragonstorm, Gloluja, Remorsefuldove, Raxacoricofallapatoriusrulez, NikitaWolfXO, Doxiesmom71, Esliesma, Sevslittlesecret, katringruzmark6, audria, BlackRyuji, CalmlessnesS, ruxicassiopeia, drwritermom, tiggerfeet1978, twilightreaderaddict, scifinerd2004, Tami_Lane, KatrinaTenebrea1864, antiquepearl, imweirdthatsok, theFearTakesHold, momoluvsu13, Marauders27, Queen_Of_All_Things_PercyJackson, h0wlingw0lf, PenelopeWaits, Aeternum, Shoutouttomyfics, The_Arithmancer, kurotora982, ConsciousCoward, DapperDan296, MagicalWinry, Likelightningglass, AcelinWolf, Wolven_Spirits, Blosiom, frostie45, SalFanfics, Lightseed, Princess_Katerina_Potter, Reganctbertiel, Snapeaholic394, CottonClover, GlitternGlow, Slydragon666, and 2Cute2BeCis for their personal comments and support during this difficult time. Apologies for any misspellings or people I missed!

Chapter Twelve – Blood Adoption

 

“I...beg your pardon?”

Severus's question caught Harry off-guard, making him blink at Severus bemusedly. He'd thought his request had been a simple one, and yet Severus did not react as though it was simple in the least—far from it, in fact.

Harry had grown rather used to the calm and collected version of Severus, and this one seemed almost new. If Harry was to put a word to the look upon the older man's face, he had to say that Severus appeared _dumbstruck_.

“I want you to Blood Adopt my child,” Harry repeated, feeling slightly more bold in the face of Severus's uncertainty, but it quickly began to fade when Severus still didn't answer, and a familiar sense of panic began to replace his confidence. “Er...y-you don't have to, Severus,” he added hastily, “I just...I just...if it was to be anyone in the whole world, I'd want it to be you. You're so kind, and smart and handso...er...smart.”

Harry felt himself flush as he looked away from Severus, but the alpha caught his chin and gently coaxed Harry's head back around until they were looking at one another again.

“Harry,” Severus whispered, his fingers tickling upon the omega's chin for a drawn-out moment before he pulled the digits away. Harry almost wanted to whine at the loss of it, but instead kept his focus trained on Severus, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from interrupting. “While I am honoured that you would ask this of me, I must wonder _why_ you would choose me for such a task. There are many alphas available for donation. Why would I be your choice, Harry?”

“Do you...not want to?” Harry ventured, feeling even more self-conscious than before, like he'd been placed under a spotlight.

“I didn't say that,” Severus said softly. “I would just like to know _why_ , Harry.”

“Because I trust you,” Harry said simply, but even so Severus appeared startled by this revelation.

Spurred by the need to put Severus at ease, Harry added, “you're nice, and you're so kind, which I suppose is the same thing, but...you make me feel safe, and cared for, and I just can't imagine doing this with anyone else...does that make sense?”

_I'm in love with you, Severus,_ Harry thought as he watched the alpha look away, Severus's eyes softer than Harry had ever seen them, but heavy with thought.

“It makes sense, Harry,” Severus said at last. “As long as you feel no obligation to ask me, such as feeling you need to repay me for my work as your Support. I do not want that for you.” He paused, and Harry shook his head. Severus nodded in understanding, then added, “if that is the case, I shall speak to the clinic about having the paperwork drawn up—blood adoption papers, surrendering of parental rights, and the rest, though I wish to brew the potion myself. My brews are far superior than anything the Ministry could concoct.”

“Surrendering of parental rights?” Harry asked, his eyes widening a little. “Why?”

“I assumed that you would not wish for a donor to have any say over how you intend to raise your child,” Severus explained, his eyebrows raising somewhat in surprise at Harry's reaction, as though he had fully expected the omega to not want Severus to be part of his child's life in any way.

“Don't you _want_ to be part of this?” Harry asked, attempting to remain calm as he spoke, but his voice still shook a little. Why didn't Severus want to be a real father to his child? Harry didn't understand it at all.

“Harry, I am trying to do what's best for you, and I had assumed that you would not wish for another alpha to have any modicum of control over your life, in particular when it comes to raising your child,” Severus explained patiently, but Harry barely heard the words over his mounting panic.

“Do you not _want_ kids?” Harry asked, even as his voice began to crack a little. “Is that why?”

“That's not it, Harry,” Severus replied, his voice even and firm, but even so Harry could almost hear a desperate lilt to it, almost as though he was begging Harry to understand. “I would love to have children, however our situation is...delicate.” He paused, and Harry frowned. Severus spotted the omega's expression at once, and pressed on hastily. “I do not mean to say that _you_ are delicate, Harry, merely that the _situation_ is delicate. I am concerned that I may be overstepping my bounds as a support if I assume the role of father for this child, that is what I mean.”

“So...” Harry paused, and frowned. He hated how much it _hurt_ to hear Severus dance around his clear reluctance to adopt his child. “You...you don't want to be a part of my kid's life, is that what you mean?”

“I want whatever is best for you and your child, Harry.”

“But that's not a real answer!” Harry protested as angry tears began to drip down his cheeks. “Do you or _don't you_? Stop talking like a bloody politician and just _tell me_ if you want to be the adoptive father or not!”

“Harry, please,” Severus said, his voice edging towards firm, but not so much that it would cause any sort of alarm in Harry. “As your support, it is my _job_ to remain neutral and do _only_ what is in the best interest of you and your unborn child. I cannot make these choices selfishly, and it would be remiss of me to do so in any capacity other than one that would help you. Becoming a support requires that I adhere to a long, trying lists of rules and regulations. One of those is impartiality—that is non-involvement in your life other than things that directly benefit you. Caring for you, making my home a safe space, but...”

Severus paused, and his expression softened slightly. To Harry, he almost looked sad.

“But that does not mean that I don't care about you, Harry.”

Severus did not look at Harry as he said it. Harry couldn't understand the conflicted look he saw on the older man's face—almost like he was ashamed of caring for him.

“If you want me in a fatherly role for this child I would be happy to do it,” Severus said after a moment's pause. “But I do not wish to approach it in any capacity where I feel as though I am forcing you.”

Severus stared intently at Harry as he spoke. Harry reached for him, and Severus took his hand, squeezing it gently.

When Harry lifted his eyes from their intertwined hands to Severus's face, he could clearly see how guarded the older man was. Beyond any _impropriety_ he feared committing, Harry was certain there was something else behind those dark eyes—something he couldn't say, and something Harry couldn't completely identify.

“Does this mean...” Harry's voice momentarily failed him. He swallowed, and tried again. “Does this mean you're not allowed to Blood Adopt my child? Because of the rules?”

“I can, and many supports do, but often it comes with a clause where you are given sole custody of the child,” Severus explained, at the same time offering Harry's hand a gentle squeeze. “In rare cases where something develops between the omega and their support the custody of the child is re-examined, but during the time where an omega needs support it is considered an overstep, and often in those situations the omega is moved elsewhere for the remainder of their healing process.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Harry asked, even as his spirits rose at such a notion, though he did his best to keep the hope out of his voice. “That an omega and their support end up together?”

“The last statistic I read was at approximately thirty percent of all supports end up mating to their charges,” Severus replied, though his tone was hesitant, as though he wasn't certain if he should be telling Harry at all. “The Clinic observes those potential pairings closely to ensure that the omega was in no way coerced into the situation. While their system does an impressive job at weeding out anyone potentially problematic, the odd one does slip through the cracks from time to time.”

_I wonder if we fall into the category of ending up together,_ Harry mused, a little more excited than upset at the notion of being closely monitored by the clinic, if that were indeed the reason behind it. _Could that be why Gemma stayed here so long at first? And why she sends me letters to check in between appointments?_

Harry could feel his excitement mounting, and he feared it showing on his face. More than anything, he didn't want Severus to find an excuse to send him away—he got the impression that Severus would not hesitate to do that if they began to veer towards something he felt that Harry was not ready for.

Instead, Harry smiled faintly at the alpha. He swallowed thickly, imagining his hope and excitement going with it as he gazed up at Severus. He knew that the man was fairly observant, and might ask questions if Harry appeared too excited by that particular prospect.

“So...are we...I mean...can we still do it?” Harry repeated as he attempted to veer the conversation back towards their original topic. “The Blood Adoption, I mean? Even with all the rules?”

“Yes, Harry,” Severus said as he rubbed his thumb across the back of Harry's hand, making it tickle. “We can.”

 

~*~

 

_Harry was pressed back against the sofa, his neck cradled by the armrest. His eyes were closed. A body hovered over his own, but it was not alarming to him. The person above him was Safe._

_Just as Harry was now Safe._

_He felt the man shift as he murmured, “Harry...”_

_The voice was spoken like a prayer, and Harry whined with need._

_Gentle lips brushed his own. Tentative; exploratory._

_Harry lifted his hand to the back of the other's neck in order to draw out the kiss. He sighed blissfully, making his companion chuckle._

_Their kisses became longer, but never less sweet. Harry moaned, needing something from his companion, though he had no idea_ what.

_He felt a kick from inside him, and their kiss broke. Harry opened his eyes, and the warm, almost uncharacteristically joyous smile he saw upon Severus's face told him that he felt it too._

 

Harry woke with a start.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, and let out a long sigh. He was getting tired of these dreams.

Harry lowered his gaze from the ceiling to the bed, and he started a little at the tenting of the duvet past his pregnant belly. A tenting that he recognized, but had not expected.

Well, that was certainly new.

Harry didn't quite know how he hadn't noticed it immediately—surely one should _know_ when they had an erection?

_But what should I do about it?_ Harry wondered as he stared at it, it looking almost comical past the swell of his belly—the rotund pregnant stomach, then the peak of... _it_. Like an oddly-shaped mountain range.

Logically, Harry knew what one normally did about these things, but the notion made him nervous, though not as anxious as he would have anticipated. Instead he felt...uncertain.

Of course, if he _did_ do something about it, there was every chance he'd either be spotted or Severus would rush in if his heart rate spiked too much.

Wouldn't _that_ be embarrassing.

Harry fell back to sleep before he came to a conclusion, and when he opened his eyes again it was almost midday. Thankfully, the erection was gone.

 

Harry washed and dressed before he headed downstairs. The dining table was empty, save for a plate covered by a glass cloche, and tucked into the edge of it was a short note.

 

_I have begun work on the potion. Feel free to come to the lab if you need me._

– _S_

 

Encouraged by the reassurance that Harry was not alone, he removed the cloche to reveal a breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs, devoid of bacon or sausage, per his latest request—meat in the mornings had been upsetting his stomach, and so Severus had adjusted his meals accordingly.

Harry only tucked in after he drew a careful zigzag on his eggs with the tomato ketchup, and as he ate his eyes were drawn to the window, and the thick, fluffy snowflakes that were fluttering past it.

It appeared as though Winter had at last arrived, and Harry felt a little saddened by that realization. He would miss the flower garden.

Harry shook his head, banishing the random thought, and refocused his attention on his food.

 

After he finished eating, Harry dutifully took his dishes to the kitchen and offered them to the basin of soapy water where the dishes were washing themselves. Harry watched for a moment until the plate had been set on the rack to dry, then moved to the laboratory door, and knocked.

The door opened on its own, leading to a narrow, rickety staircase. At the sight of it, Harry immediately felt his stomach twist into knots.

The subterranean enclosed space had an effect Harry had not expected, and his vision went dark as he was assaulted by horrifying memories.

 

_Bodies. Being locked in a basement with corpses. Blackness, and only the sound of his own screams for company._

 

“Harry? _Harry!_ ”

Harry barely recognized the voice.

He ran.

 

Harry came back to himself in a most peculiar way. He remembered running, and he remembered the blind panic that accompanied it. However, the next thing he was aware of was the sound of a crackling fire, the feel of a blanket cocooned around him, and strong arms embracing him.

And yet, he felt cold.

For once, it was not a metaphor for his emotional state, but a physical thing. His feet were frozen to the touch, and his skin was chilled.

He blinked, and gazed up at Severus, because of course it was Severus who held him.

“S-Severus?”

“Yes, Harry,” Severus replied as he gazed down at Harry, his mouth shifting into the first true smile he had ever seen the man bear. “It's all right now, you're safe. I am very sorry...this was my fault. In all the commotion over your request, it had entirely slipped my mind that a basement would be a distressing place for you. As a support, I should know better than to forget something so important.”

“I'm cold.”

“I imagined you would be after running through half a mile of snow,” Severus replied, which caused Harry to blink.

“Snow?”

“Yes, snow,” he said. “How much do you remember?”

Harry looked down at himself. His skin was very pink, and what he could see of his own clothing (what was not obscured by the thick blanket, at least) appeared to be pyjamas, and not the T-shirt and jeans he'd been wearing that morning. The notion that Severus had changed his clothes made him feel particularly odd, and for a moment it effectively distracted him from Severus's question. When he recalled it, his words were slow and almost sluggish as each fact came to him one by one, making his head hurt.

“I remember...” Harry scrunched up his forehead as he thought. “I remember...eggs. I had scrambled eggs for breakfast. You...you left a note that you were working on the potion. I went to the door, and..and...”

Harry whimpered, and Severus hushed him gently. He pressed a kiss to the top of Harry's head seemingly without thinking, and pulled the omega close, cradling him in his arms like a child, yet instead of feeling infantilized by the act, Harry felt deeply comforted.

“After you knocked, you looked down into my lab, panicked, and fled,” Severus explained, though his words did not spark any recollection in Harry. “I did not have time to ponder what happened, not when my first priority was helping you. Unfortunately, in times of crisis or magic sometimes reacts before we can think. It burst out of you, and it perceived _me_ as a threat. I was locked into my own laboratory, and it took me nearly ten minutes to undo the hex placed upon the door. When I at last got out, the front door was hanging open, and there was a distinctive trail of bare feet leading from the house to the road, and beyond.

“In hindsight, it's rather impressive that you got so far in ten minutes. Because you were in bare feet, I knew that I had to get to you quickly. I flew by broom, and found you collapsed under a tree, your feet white and on the cusp of frostbite, and your exposed skin was red. By my count, you'd been in the snow for almost twenty minutes. I allowed you to scent me before I touched you, and when you calmed slightly I brought you home, transfigured your clothing into pyjamas, and wrapped you in blankets before I built up the fire. You've been in a state of catatonia for nearly an hour, Harry.”

“I...” Harry grimaced as he tried to absorb all that Severus was telling him. After a short pause, he tried to speak again. “I don't understand. In my lessons with Hermione, I have such a hard time using magic because of the pregnancy. Why was I able to use it now?”

“Under normal circumstances it is true that most of your magical ability is redirected to keeping your unborn child healthy. Today your mind was confronted with a perceived threat, and your magic reacted protectively while your mind was suffused with flight instincts,” Severus explained patiently, one hand lifting to run though Harry's hair in a comforting gesture as he spoke. “You had a flashback, which I am only presuming by your reaction, and as a result your magic burst from you due to the fact that you believed that your life was in danger.”

“Oh.” Harry paused, chewing the inside of his cheek as he leant against Severus. He wanted to ask if this accidental magic was so powerful, why did it never come to his aid with Macnair? Surely he needed it more then than when he was confronted by memories?

Harry tried to ask Severus this, but his voice kept stumbling and faltering. It was hard to talk about Macnair so close to a flashback, but thankfully Severus seemed to understand what he was getting at.

“I have no proof of this, I would have to verify it with the Aurors who processed _his_ house, but my guess would be that he had wards in place to stop you fighting back against him,” Severus explained. “There are many forms of warding magic, the most common being those used as privacy or to keep trespassers out. However, some parents do use different forms of wards if their have a child whose magic is particularly volatile, or uncontrolled. I can only assume that he used something similar on you.”

“Oh,” Harry said again. He wished he had something more intelligent to say on the matter, but nothing came to him. Severus seemed to know everything about magic, and as a result Harry trusted his assumption completely. Instead of saying more on the subject of Macnair, Harry shifted his focus back to their present topic of conversation. “Er...Thank you for coming to get me, even if I accidentally locked you in the b—er, in your lab.”

“It's all right, Harry,” Severus replied as he hugged the omega close. “Try not to feel guilty for how you responded today. It is only natural that you will take one step forward and two steps back. Healing from a traumatic event is never easy, and I do not blame you for your reaction. It is I who should be blamed for so foolishly forgetting what occurred during your captivity—I should have known that a subterranean setting would be distressing for you.”

“It's okay,” Harry said, and winced almost immediately at how soft and subservient it sounded. He tried again before Severus had a chance to interject. “I mean...yes, you should have known, but you're human. I'm not cross that it slipped your mind, especially with all that's going on at the moment.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I truly should have known better, Harry,” Severus said as he stroked the omega's hair tenderly, his eyes soft and almost...dare Harry think it. _..loving._

Harry held his breath, almost daring to hope, but the moment passed, and Severus looked away.

Swallowing his disappointment, Harry leant against Severus, and contented himself to be held.


	14. Making Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Surprise! Early update due to my schedule having a brief change XD but overall we're back to our regular posting schedule :) Thank you guys so much for your patience, and I hope you all had a lovely holiday season. Please enjoy this update, and the next is scheduled for Sunday, January 26th.

Chapter Thirteen – Making Christmas

 

Harry stood at the window as he watched Hedwig fly away into the drifting snowfall when Severus moved into the space from his laboratory. He looked fatigued to Harry, but it was hard to tell, given how Severus often kept himself so closed-off, even from him.

“The potion is nearly ready,” he announced as he shed his brewing robes and hung them up, revealing a simple long-sleeved shirt and trousers beneath. The trim, fitted garments made Harry's heart speed up more than he'd like to admit. “It needs to mature for the next fortnight, and on the next full moon you can drink it.”

“I thought you said it was _nearly ready_ ,” Harry said, his tone almost teasing, and Severus's lips twitched into a small half-smile.

“I have been brewing it for nearly a month, Harry. Once the active stage of brewing is more or less complete, I would consider that the _nearly_ stage,” he said, and though his tone sounded almost condescending, something about the older man's expression told Harry that he was being teased.

Harry liked that he knew that. Even a month or two ago, Harry may have panicked or got upset by such remarks, but now he felt stronger.

More than that, he now felt truly reassured that he was safe here, given that following the incident with Harry's sub-zero flight, Severus had all but memorized Harry's file to ensure that nothing of the sort ever happened again.

“Are you hungry, Harry?” Severus asked as he stepped closer to him. “Is that why you're standing in the kitchen?”

“Er...no,” Harry replied, flushing a little as he looked away from Severus, who curved a brow at Harry, though he said nothing, clearly waiting for Harry to continue. “I...er...I sort of sent a letter to some...people.”

“Is there a reason why you're acting like that's something to be ashamed of?” Severus asked. “I think doing something seasonal like that is an excellent way to help your mind reaffirm that you are safe here, and you can, indeed, lead a normal life.”

“I'm just...nervous about it, I s'pose,” Harry admitted awkwardly. “See...I sort of sent a letter to...to my Godparents.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” Harry paused, and bit his lip. “I just...I dunno what they'll say.”

“Knowing them, enormous, likely over-the-top gestures of love and devotion,” Severus replied, his tone so dry that it made Harry laugh out loud. “They have promised Albus that they will not drop in on us without your express permission—the worst that could happen is that they will respond to your letter.”

“Worst?” Harry asked, chancing to inch a little closer to Severus, and he smiled a little more widely as he opened his arms, and Harry folded himself into them, with only his baby bump in the way.

“Did I say worst?” Severus murmured into Harry's hair. “Of course I meant _best_.”

Severus held Harry for a long, uninterrupted moment. Harry let his eyes slide shut, determined to enjoy this closeness while it lasted. Severus seemed to be doing things of this nature a lot more lately, and though Harry _liked_ to think that he was finally letting himself embrace Harry how he wanted to, another part of him doubted that that could be true. After all, Severus was a very by-the-book sort of man. He had made it very clear that he had no intention of toeing the line between support and impropriety when Harry's emotional well-being was on the line.

Either way, Harry hadn't had the nerve to ask him for any sort of clarification. He was afraid that he'd shine a light onto what Severus had been doing, and he'd stop.

Harry _never_ wanted him to stop.

 

“They won't come, right?” Harry asked instead, whispering the words as he reached out to wind his arms around Severus's middle. “They'll remember that I'm not ready for that?”

“I am certain Lupin shall remember, even if Black does not,” Severus replied just as softly. “Despite my own coloured past with those two, they truly only want the best for you, and they would not actively wish to disrupt your healing process in any way. The most you can expect of them is perhaps a letter in response. And, of course, likely a ridiculous amount of gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“Did it slip your mind that Christmas is in a few days?” Severus asked, pulling back just enough to look into Harry's eyes, and he tried to hide his disappointment at the loss of Severus's comforting embrace.

“No, I know, it's just...” Harry trailed off, and bit his lip. “Christmas is still a presents-thing? For me too?”

“You... _too_?” Severus blinked at him. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“I mean...” Harry felt himself flush as he trailed off again. “I—I dunno how to explain it. I forgot about Christmas while I was _there_. If _he_ celebrated it, he never got me anything. I'm glad of that though. I never wanted anything from him, except maybe my freedom. Before that my relatives...well...”

He grimaced, unable to finish the sentence.

“Harry,” Severus murmured, catching his chin when Harry tried to look down at his feet, and he gently coaxed his eyes back up. “Are you trying to tell me that you've never had a proper Christmas... _ever_?”

“Er...I s'pose not,” Harry admitted, and he felt his face flood with colour as he took an uncomfortable step back, and Severus immediately let him go. “What would a proper Christmas include?”

“In general, it includes gifts and more food than the human body should be able to handle,” Severus replied, his tone seemingly muddled between sarcasm and teasing. “There is also often a fair amount of sweets and festive drinks like eggnog and mulled wine.”

“In that case...I can say I've never had what you think is a proper Christmas,” Harry replied, though he spoke the words to his feet, rather than to Severus himself.

Severus was not content to let Harry mumble his words however, and curled his fingers around Harry's chin yet again, gently coaxing his gaze back up until their eyes met.

“Not anymore, Harry.”

 

~*~

 

Harry hadn't known what Severus had meant by that, at least, not at first. He'd passed the day alternating between thoughts of what Severus had said, trying to work out what he'd meant, and thoughts of the letter he'd sent to his godparents, which, by now, he'd memorized in its entirety.

 

_Dear Sirius and Remus (Or do I call you Godparents? Uncles?)_

_I don't really know how to start this—Severus said you know what happened to me, so I don't really want to go over it all again here._

_I've been trying to find the right words for a while on what to say to you, but I'm still sort of at a loss. I think you should know straight off that I'm happy where I am. Severus treats me really well, and even goes beyond what I'd call 'basic needs'. He even got me an owl of my own, it's been incredible, really._

_I say all this because I know you two and him have some kind of history. He won't tell me everything, he says he doesn't want his past to colour my judgement of you, and I do want to know you, but I'm also kind of scared. Severus is the most important person in my whole life, and I don't like thinking about bad things happening to him._

_So I s'pose that's where I'll leave that. Maybe now I can ask about you? Do you have jobs? Kids? What were my parents like? I know you knew them. _

_That's all I can think of right now. I'm not ready for visits yet, too many people still freak me out, but I hope a letter will make you feel better, knowing that I'm not hurting here or anything._

_Happy Christmas,_

_Harry_

 

Even now, the contents of the letter made his insides squirm with unease. He feared that they would disregard his plea for them to _not_ come, and show up anyway. Severus had told Harry more than once that they'd abide by Albus's rules and not crowd him, but Harry had a hard time believing it.

As to what Severus had said to him in regards to Christmas, that had become abundantly clear the following morning.

 

Harry descended the stairs that morning, still mostly asleep. He expected to smell the usual, familiar scents of cooking breakfast, but the first thing he was acutely aware of was the scent of fresh evergreen.

He blinked, and glanced up. Harry spotted a wreath upon the door made up of evergreen branches, sprigs of holly, and silver bells. The banister, he suddenly noticed, was wound through with green garlands, and as he made it to the bottom of the stairs, he saw that the halls were indeed decked with boughs of holly, and in the sitting room there was a beautiful tree, adorned with silver decorations and a star on top, and there were even a few parcels underneath it.

Curious, Harry stepped farther into the space, momentarily ignoring his rumbling stomach. Hung from the mantle were two furiously red stockings, one bearing Severus's name, and the other with Harry's. There were more little decorations here and there, determinedly green or silver, colours which Severus seemed to have an odd affinity for.

“Oh,” Harry said. He could feel Severus watching him, and he turned to offer the older man a soft, watery smile. “When did you do all this?”

“Last night,” Severus replied, his mouth twitching into a faint smile before he added, “with the help of a few elves and reindeer, of course.”

“It's brilliant,” Harry said, his voice on the side of breathless. “It's... _beautiful_. What do we do now?”

“Well...breakfast might be a good idea,” Severus replied dryly, which caused Harry to laugh.

 

Over eggs benedict, Harry asked Severus more questions about his Christmas, which, despite how relaxed Severus appeared about the whole thing, he seemed to enjoy.

“Does this mean I need to get presents for everyone I know now?” Harry asked curiously as he cradled his teacup in his hands, and Severus shook his head a little.

“Not if you don't want to,” he replied smoothly. “I usually do not get gifts for anyone, save three or four people...or, rather, four or five now.”

“Three?”

“Albus, my former colleague Minerva, a friend from my schooldays as well as her son, and you, of course.”

“Me?” Harry squeaked, and Severus arched a brow at him, but Harry barrelled forward before Severus could interrupt. “I mean...you don't need to get me anything.”

“Why not?”

“You've done enough,” Harry said hastily. Harry flushed with embarrassment as he thought back on everything Severus had done for him in recent months—really, it was almost too much. “You're not obligated to get me anything.”

“Obligated, no, but what if I'd _like_ to?” Severus asked softly, his voice very close to a purr, which caused Harry to shiver minutely. “You deserve the best Christmas I can give you, Harry...provided the notion does not make you uncomfortable, that is.”

“No, I don't think I'm uncomfortable about it,” Harry admitted, and he saw Severus relax incrementally at that. “I just...I don't want to impose.”

“You're not, Harry, of that I can promise,” Severus replied smoothly as he picked up the platter of leftover eggs benedict. “Would you like another?”

Harry could only assume that the offer was an attempt to keep Harry from getting uncomfortable over the topic of conversation, and with a meek smile, he nodded.

Severus slid one of the english muffin halves onto Harry's plate, and topped it with a healthy measure of the hollandaise sauce. Harry set aside his teacup and dug in, and he felt a prickle of joy course through him when he saw Severus smile at him approvingly.

 

~*~

 

“Christmas?” Hermione asked, sounding perplexed, and Harry lowered his wand a little, giving up on the stupid Summoning Charm for the moment as he nodded.

“Yeah. I mean, I've never had one before—that is, not a real one,” Harry explained, and winced when his tutor gazed at him with a look of sympathy. He hated it when she did that. “I want to get something nice for Severus, but I don't really know how. I still can't go to town on my own without panicking, though Severus and I have made a few trips to the Apothecary together without me freaking out, as long as it's quiet and not too busy. I'm just not sure what to do.”

“Well, what about Owl Order?” Hermione asked, her eyes sliding over to the laboratory door as she spoke, as though to check for Severus's presence before she explained, “sort of an order through the post. You can get a catalogue for a shop, pick what you want, and pay without having to step foot inside. Maybe to keep it secret you can pick something, and I can order it for you, so that Severus doesn't spot it by accident?”

“Oh, there's an idea,” Harry said with a faint smile, and Hermione beamed at him. “How do you pay, though? I was under the impression that the wizarding world didn't have credit cards.”

“No, it doesn't,” Hermione agreed with a giggle. “The slip you send has what's called a key signature. After you fill out the form and sign your name, you press your Gringotts key to this special spot upon the slip, and it confirms your vault and identity.”

“Oh,” Harry thought back, but wasn't sure he had the key she was talking about. “I'm not sure where that key is...Severus told me I had...er...some money somewhere, but I don't think I ever got the key. Is that bad?”

“A few years ago I may have thought so, but now...” she paused, and offered him a small smile. “I honestly think he wants to help you as much as he can. He may not have offered it to you because he didn't want to overwhelm you with too many things all at once. I like to think if you asked for it, he'd give it to you.”

“And why would I ask for it conveniently right before Christmas?”

“You could always say that you want to hold onto it because it's your _right_ to, simple as that,” Hermione said as she dug into her bag and pulled out a small stack of magazines. The corners were curled and several of the pages had been dog-eared, as though they'd been in there for a long time.

“Here,” she said, offering him the stack. “Those are for a few of the shops in Diagon Alley. If you see anything you like just fill out the forms and I'll get everything together in time for Christmas.”

“Oh, thanks,” Harry said, his response escaping him almost robotically, making him sound a little bit dazed, but rather than remark on it, Hermione simply smiled.

“Now, come on, Summoning Charm. Let's give it another try.”

Feeling more confident than he had in weeks, Harry smiled, and nodded.

 

That evening, Harry did what Hermione had suggested and casually asked Severus for his Gringotts key. He parroted Hermione's suggestion that it was his right to have it, and added that he'd feel more normal if he could be in charge of his own finances.

Severus barely reacted to the request before he swept upstairs, returning a few moments later with a little golden key.

“You're right, of course, Harry,” he said as he pressed the key into the omega's palm. “You're an adult, and have every right to be in charge of your own finances. However, if you have any questions or need advice about anything concerning these matters, I would hope that you feel comfortable speaking to me. I am always here for you.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied, flushing a little at the latter part of Severus's statement.

_I am always here for you._

He loved the sound of that.

“Er, there's one more thing,” Harry added as his fingers curled more tightly around the key. Severus curved an eyebrow at him, as though somehow Harry's addendum had surprised him.

“Oh? And what might that be?”

“I'd like you to put my bedroom door back on,” Harry said in a rush, and to his immense relief, Severus offered him a small smile.

“Of course, Harry, whatever you need,” he replied before he flicked his wand once, and from upstairs Harry heard the sound of a door slamming. “It's done.”

Feeling more confident than he had in days, Harry beamed at him and moved over to hug his support.

Severus chuckled warmly, and Harry felt his heart soar as Severus hugged him back.

“Come, Harry,” Severus said as he pulled back sooner than Harry would have liked, “let's enjoy what remains of our evening. What do you think of some tea, biscuits, and some reading?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “that sounds good.”

Harry watched as Severus conjured a tea tray, and prepared Harry a cup of tea just how he liked it.

He accepted the cup from the alpha, and let out a soft little sigh of contentment as he eased back and cast a glance to the sitting room window. Outside he could see that it snowing once more, and the festive, seasonal weather brought a small smile to Harry's face.

In spite of his remaining reservations, he could feel it—

This was going to be the _best_ Christmas he ever had.


	15. Proper Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for February 9th. Enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen – Proper Christmas

 

Harry couldn't say he was entirely _proud_ of the job he'd done, but in spite of that particular fact, he couldn't rightly ask Severus to help him with _this._

After all, Harry was fairly certain that asking someone to wrap their own Christmas gifts was probably some sort of faux-pas.

_Besides_ , Harry mused as he looked over the little pile of gifts he'd procured, _it's better that they look like they've been wrapped by a blind rhinoceros, at least he'll know I did it all by myself._

Harry smiled to himself. Even though they looked awful, it still filled him with an odd sense of accomplishment to look at them. The little gifts for Gemma, Hermione, Ron, and Healer Cotton looked much nicer, but that was to be expected when he'd asked Severus to help wrap those.

Unfortunately, his gift-wrapping lessons hadn't exactly _stuck_ , and his attempts to replicate what Severus had shown him had gone rather badly.

_No matter_ , Harry thought as he tucked his legs under his bottom, and continued to gaze at the presents. _I still did this all by myself—that should at least count for something._

They weren't much; he hadn't trusted himself to order Potions ingredients or tools of the trade, and instead he had stuck to Severus's preferred brandy and a box of dark truffles, but he still hoped that Severus would like them. For the others, he'd stuck with boxes of assorted chocolates, given that he wasn't entirely sure what everyone liked.

And, as far as Harry was concerned, _everyone_ liked chocolate.

 

Harry at last forced himself to stop staring at the presents when his stomach gave him an impatient sort of gurgle, and he got up in order to head down for breakfast. As he went, he was overwhelmed momentarily by the thick scent of seasonal fare, of cloves and cinnamon and pine before the usual scent of food began to intermingle with it, and Harry picked up his pace a little. Really, all this worrying over Christmas had given him quite the appetite.

When he made it to the dining room, he found Severus laying out a delicious spread of croissants, fruit salad, scrambled eggs, bacon, and tea, and from Harry's vantage point, he could see a number of utensils and pots cooking themselves, which made Harry blink a little.

“Bit early for dinner, isn't it?” Harry asked curiously as he slid into his seat, which caused Severus to smirk at him wryly.

“I needed to start a few things early,” Severus explained as he stepped momentarily back to the kitchen to check on something while he asked, “how are you feeling today?”

“About as well as can be expected,” Harry replied as he rubbed a hand over his stomach. It had been growing in leaps and bounds lately; his C-Section had been scheduled for mid January, and he was already counting the days until he could walk normally again. “Just a bit tired of feeling like I've swallowed the Moon.”

“As I understand it, most omegas and beta women feel the same at this stage of their pregnancy,” Severus replied with a little smirk as he stepped back into the dining room. “I was speaking of mental feeling, actually. Given that you wanted to invite a few people to our Christmas Eve festivities, I was wondering if you still feel well enough to go forward with our plans.”

“Oh, that?” Harry asked, blinking at Severus in surprise. “I feel...good, I suppose. I don't feel nervous about it at all. Is it really all right that I invited Gemma? It's not...improper, given that she's my Mind Healer?”

“It is...unconventional, but I sincerely doubt that either of you intend to discuss your sessions over dinner,” Severus replied evenly as he eased down across from him at the table. “I would try not to worry about it, Harry.”

“Oh, good.” He paused as he speared a piece of diced peach, and brought it to his lips as he asked, “how many people are coming again?”

“Just five,” Severus said. “Gemma, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, and my own two guests. Narcissa Black and Draco Malfoy.”

“What are they like?” Harry asked curiously, and Severus smiled faintly, as though he approved of Harry wishing to ask at all.

“Narcissa is an old school friend of mine,” Severus began. “She is from an old wizarding family, moneyed, but bears the supposed _great shame_ of bearing an omega son. Having Draco has softened her; she may seem quite haughty when you first meet her, but she is not what she appears to be.”

_Like you,_ Harry thought.

“Her son...perhaps it is an overstep on my behalf, but I was rather hoping you might find a friend in him,” Severus explained, pausing in order to sip his coffee. “He was a snotty little brat in school, which I could understand and appreciate, considering what sort of environment he grew up in. However, it all came crashing down at the beginning of his sixth year when he presented. He was immediately carted off to an Omega Boarding House at the request of his father.”

“What are...” Harry began, but Severus continued before he could finish his question.

“Very old fashioned, and very, _very_ illegal.” Severus paused again, and made a face, his expression twisting into something sour, and very close to rage. “They are not unlike a prison for the unwed. He suffered there—I shall not go into details, and it is nowhere near your own trauma, but Draco did spend time in an Omega Clinic after Narcissa discovered what Lucius had done. She intercepted him just in time, for Draco was mere days away from being sold off to the highest bidder. Not long after, Narcissa filed for divorce and filed an order to keep Lucius—Draco's father—as far away from the young man as possible.”

Harry shuddered, and for a moment he almost felt as though he might be sick. He watched Severus cautiously, at a loss for what to say, while Severus, in turn, appeared oddly hesitant, as though there was something he wanted to add, but for whatever reason, couldn't bring himself to.

“But this Draco bloke...he's all right now?”

“About as well as you are, Harry,” Severus said somewhat dryly before he added, “he is...coping. He did not wish to participate in the Support program, though he sees a mind healer on a regular basis and his defence mechanisms for when he's feeling particularly emotional tend to veer towards cruel sarcasm, rather than something more helpful to himself or those close to him. For all that however, he needs a friend, and I think you can be that for him—if you want. If you decide that you dislike him, you are under no obligation to maintain any sort of contact with him.”

Severus pushed out the latter half of his explanation very fast, as though determined to impart on Harry that he didn't have to do anything that he didn't want to.

Harry, on the other hand, felt strangely conflicted. Often his responses these days were a firm _yes_ or _no_ , with little room for grey area (except, perhaps, his initial dithering on the notion of contacting his godparents). This time however, he truly had no idea how to respond. The note of how this bloke seemed to have _cruel sarcasm_ didn't exactly sit well with Harry, and part of him hoped that Severus was exaggerating about that part—it'd be nice to have a real friend.

“I can try,” Harry said at last, and Severus inclined his head while he smiled slightly.

“It will be good to try,” Severus said. “That is all you can expect of yourself, and, of course, to know what your limits are.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Limits.”

 

~*~

 

Harry didn't tell Severus how nervous he was at the prospect of meeting the other omega. From Severus's explanation he could guess that Draco had been at the clinic much earlier than Harry had, which would account for why he'd never crossed paths with him.

That, and the fact that Harry hadn't exactly been in a socializing mood when he'd been staying there.

 

Harry frowned to himself, still lost in thought as he wiggled into a festive holiday jumper he'd asked Hermione to pick up for him. It was violently red, and his swollen belly gave the Santa Claus motif a very 3D sort of effect, though his stomach did not jiggle in any way like a bowl full of jelly.

The baby kicked, and Harry laughed as he ran a hand over his stomach.

“Sorry, baby,” Harry said as he felt the child shift again. “I didn't mean to think of you as jelly.”

The apology seemed to settle the unborn child, which caused Harry to chuckle. He left on his jeans with the stretchy waistband, as he was in no mood to struggle into a nicer pair of trousers when his stomach was so firmly in the way, and instead left his room, and headed for the main level of the house.

When he made it back downstairs, Severus was arranging a few platters of appetizers upon the coffee table, which seemed a bit larger than usual, perhaps magicked bigger to fit all the food upon it. The mini-bar in the corner bore a large punch bowl full of some sort of milky substance, and orchestral Christmas music was filtering from the little radio on the mantelpiece that Severus rarely used.

“You're not dressed yet?” Harry asked, nodding to Severus's decidedly un-festive clothing.

“I changed my jumper,” Severus replied simply while he motioned to the green turtleneck he was wearing, which caused Harry to laugh out loud, while Severus smirked wryly, perhaps amused by Harry's ease that he'd been exhibiting all day.

“Why's there milk in a bowl, by the way?” he asked instead while he sat down on the sofa, and Severus chuckled a little in response, though Harry wasn't sure what was so funny this time.

“It's eggnog,” Severus said. “I was going to offer that you try some before I added the rum. If you like it, I'll leave out the alcohol.”

“Oh.” Harry felt himself flush in embarrassment. “I thought it'd be...yellow, you know, because of the eggs.”

“When the yolk is beaten properly, the colour of it becomes quite faint, and when the milk is added, it becomes even lighter,” Severus explained, and Harry nodded a little. “Would you like to try some?”

“All right,” Harry said, “er...but the raw egg won't hurt the baby?”

“No, I did a number of sanitizing spells to ensure that no harmful bacteria would remain,” Severus explained, and Harry nodded again.

“All right then,” he said as he smiled faintly at Severus. “I'll try it.”

Severus moved to the bowl, and used a glass ladle to pour out a careful measure of what Harry estimated to be about a quarter of a usual serving. Severus topped it with a light sprinkling of some sort of dark spice, then brought it over to Harry for him to try.

“It's not for everyone,” Severus cautioned as he held it out to Harry. “But it's considered festive, and I have it under good authority that a few of our guests tonight do like this...drink.”

Harry nodded, smiling wryly as he accepted the cup from his support. From his tone, Harry had a feeling that Severus had wanted to use a much more scathing word than _drink_.

Harry gazed down into the cup. It was thick, and as he tilted it slightly he noted that the concoction clung to the sides like thick cream.

Harry didn't allow himself time to hesitate with tasting it, in particular when Severus was standing next to him expectantly.

He brought the cup to his lips, and sipped.

“ _Bleargh_ ,” Harry immediately said as he wrinkled his nose, the vocalization escaping him before he could think it through. Severus chuckled warmly as he touched Harry's back, almost like he was trying to silently reassure the omega that he was not hurt by the reaction.

“That answers _that_ ,” Severus replied as he took the cup from Harry, which he surrendered easily, and he conjured a glass of water for Harry, and he bolted it down in order for him to get the taste out of his mouth.

“People actually _like_ that stuff?” Harry asked after Severus had returned from magicking away Harry's tiny serving of the drink. He'd paused long enough to pour a healthy measure of rum into the punch bowl, and when he got back, he smiled at Harry with clear amusement.

“Proof that some people have entirely _no_ tastebuds,” he replied easily, which made Harry laugh. At the same moment, he felt the baby kick, and gasped as he reached out, grabbed Severus's wrist, and pressed it to the spot on his stomach.

Harry wasn't quite certain what made him do it. Perhaps the knowledge that soon the baby would be his and Severus's, and not the by-product of a foul, murdering rapist.

He didn't know, but neither did Harry really care. He just liked the idea of finally sharing this with Severus, even if the alpha did his best to hide how excited he was at the prospect of being an adoptive father.

In that moment, Harry was given another glimpse of that excitement. Severus appeared startled at first, but the confusion and alarm faded as he realized what Harry was doing, and a quiet sort of awe replaced it.

“That's our baby,” Harry whispered, and Severus smiled faintly, a hand laying atop Harry's for the span of a moment before he remembered himself, and quickly pulled away.

“I have to check the...food,” Severus said, sounding the least put-together that Harry had ever heard him, and watched in confusion as Severus hurried back to the kitchen, at a loss for what he had done wrong.

 

~*~

 

Harry struggled not to dwell on Severus's odd reaction to feeling the baby's kicks. It was entirely possible that Severus did not feel as though the baby was truly _his_ , given that the only thing altering the child's biology was a potion, one which Harry hadn't even taken yet. Maybe alphas could _feel_ when their omega was carrying a baby that wasn't theirs?

Which, of course, led to Harry reminding himself, yet again, that he was not Severus's, nor was Severus's _his_.

In the end, that didn't help his mood, even when people began to arrive. Severus was polite and courteous, even to Ron, who looked entirely uncomfortable at the notion of being in his former professor's house, and after being offered some eggnog he poked it with his wand, which made Hermione hiss, “ _stop it, Ronald! He's not going to poison us!_ ”

Gemma was far more polite than Ron had been, and after stepping inside she had a big hug for Harry, and cooed over how he was _positively glowing_ , which made him flush pink. She politely declined Severus's offer of the eggnog, and took a glass of wine instead, chatting with the others while Severus stepped in only occasionally to check in, given that he seemed to be fairly busy with the food preparations.

Harry's anxiety needled at him in these moments, worrying that Severus was avoiding him. He excused himself from the others more than once in order to see what he was up to, only to find that Severus was, indeed, basting the roast for dinner.

“Everything all right?” Hermione asked cheerily when Harry got back, and he flushed again.

“Yeah,” he replied with a faint smile, “everything's fine.”

 

The last to arrive was Draco Malfoy and his mother, both of whom appeared mildly apprehensive as they stepped inside—Draco, more than his mother.

Harry had no idea what he expected, but Narcissa seemed to flit between kind and aloof as she offered Harry a little silver-wrapped box, which Harry placed under his and Severus's tree, intending to open it tomorrow morning. She then offered Severus an enormous bouquet of blooming red poinsettias, which Severus placed into a crystal vase on one of the available tables.

All the while, Draco was quiet. He was wearing black robes with a high collar, his eyes like molten silver and hair like fine gold, and though he seemed to be doing all that he could to hold his head high, his gaze often dropped, and he stared at the floor as he all but hid behind his mother.

Looking at him, Harry could understand why Narcissa would want Draco out of a house like the one that Severus had described. He was _beautiful_ to look at, and would certainly turn the head of any alpha he came across.

Harry frowned at that notion as his eyes slid over to Severus, the only alpha in the room. Now that his own guests had arrived, he made a point of staying in the sitting room for longer periods, but still had to leave occasionally to check on the food. For one wild moment, Harry worried that Draco might turn _Severus's_ head, but amazingly the man never gave the beautiful omega more than a fatherly glance, and his words were smooth and polite, but not what Harry would consider forward.

Harry breathed out in relief, and Draco immediately noticed.

“He's not my type, if that's what you're worried about,” Draco said bluntly from the opposite side of the sofa, and Harry flushed a deep scarlet, which he tried to hide behind his cup of tea.

“Am I _that_ obvious?” Harry asked softly, and Draco smirked as he sipped his wine.

“Not to this lot, but we omegas have keener senses than most,” he replied easily. “Even at your stage of pregnancy, I have a feeling you'd happily scratch my eyes out if I looked at your alpha for too long.”

“He's not mine,” Harry said hastily, and he cursed at himself when he felt that he was blushing again. “He's just my support.”

“For now, perhaps, but I see how you look at him,” Draco said, his voice smooth and confident, like he was _certain_ that Harry and Severus would wind up together. “You look at him like he hung the Moon. Myself, I prefer alphas with a little more... _muscle_.”

Draco smirked, and Harry couldn't help but laugh. Hermione and Gemma appeared overjoyed at Harry's mirthful vocalization, but Ron made a face, as though he somehow disapproved of Harry's choice in friends.

 

~*~

 

Talking with Draco was surprisingly easy, Harry soon discovered. He could see the remnants of the other omega's snotty rich boy persona simmering just below the surface, in particular with how he seemed to avoid talking with Ron (and Ron, in turn, refused to talk with Draco). It gave Harry the impression that if he'd met Draco prior to either of their ordeals, he may not have liked him very much, which was an odd thing to feel—he knew he didn't wish that sort of experience on _anyone_ ; no one deserved that sort of abuse, ever.

And yet, Harry knew that his own ordeal had softened him, as it had notably softened Draco. Gemma sometimes said during their sessions that abuse could make a person more kind, or alternately more cruel. It never made what happened to them justified, but it did sometimes help them empathize with others more easily.

Watching Draco interact with not just him, but his mother and Severus as well (and to a lesser extent Hermione and Gemma), Harry had a feeling that it was the former. He couldn't exactly call Draco a _nice_ person—more like he was carefully guarded, as though he expected the people close to him to eventually let him down. Considering what little Severus had told Harry about Draco's past, that was understandable.

It was nice, Harry realized, to have Draco around. His new friend most assuredly seemed to have something of a Mother Hen attitude when he spoke to Harry, which Harry could not decide was a good or bad thing. He had a tendency to eye anyone who spoke to Harry with a narrowed gaze, as though he dared them to bring up anything Harry might not wish to discuss.

Of course, this never happened. Everyone was incredibly polite, and the only time Draco didn't exert this particular trait was when Harry conversed with Severus, though he did give Harry a knowing look, which always made him to flush pink.

“Are you truly planning on doing that forever?” Draco asked softly just as Severus called them all for dinner. As they all began to get up, Draco pointedly lagged behind, making it clear that he did not wish to be overheard.

“Doing what forever?” Harry asked as he struggled to his feet, and Draco immediately moved a hand to Harry's back in order to steady him.

“Pretending you're not hopelessly in love with Severus,” Draco said, arching a pointed brow at Harry, which became even more pronounced when Harry flushed again. “It's as plain as day, Harry.”

“I'll pretend until I'm better,” Harry retorted stubbornly. He tried to sound cold and firm in order to impart on Draco that it was not up for discussion, but the blond wasn't buying the feeble explanation, his eyebrows arching higher as he stared down the other omega, causing Harry to heave a sigh of defeat.

“I have this feeling that Severus feels the same, but he's so focused on getting me better that I'm afraid he'd send me away if he thought things between us were getting too... _intimate_ ,” Harry explained. “He's really intent on not crossing that line.”

“Pity,” Draco said with a dramatic sigh as they at last began to head for the dining room. “I think you two would make a _lovely_ couple.”


	16. Unfit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for February 23rd. Enjoy!
> 
> **Content Warning: Panic Attack, Dissociation**

Chapter Fifteen – Unfit

 

Draco followed Harry into the dining room for dinner while Harry, in turn, did all that he could to dismiss Draco's casual, off-handed remark.

_I think you two would make a lovely couple._

Harry shivered; that sounded like a _wonderful_ idea.

He knew that the likelihood of it occurring was unlikely however, and forced himself to push it to the back of his mind.

_Let me get through dinner first,_ Harry thought, as he crossed the threshold into the dining room.

 

Severus sat at the head of the table, and Harry was quick to sit to his left. Draco sat next to Harry, bracketed by Narcissa, then at the opposite end of the table was Gemma, and facing Harry was Hermione and Ron.

Ron's eyes rounded distinctly when Severus waved his wand, and the table filled with an assortment of food—boiled sprouts, mashed potatoes, carrots, buttered peas, fresh rolls, and a centrepiece of a beautiful lamb roast and sumptuous tureen of gravy. All the goblets filled with various drink—red or white wine for most of them, but pumpkin juice for Harry, placed in a wine goblet rather than a simple glass, which Harry now recognized as Severus's gentle attempt to make him feel more like an adult, and less like a child.

Notably, Severus had decided against crackers, but no one remarked on it. Ron seemed about to, but Hermione elbowed him in the ribs before he was able to speak.

“So tell me, Mr Potter,” Narcissa said as they all began to serve themselves, passing around the warm bowls as they all took a serving of each available dish, “when are you due?”

“Harry, please,” Harry replied as he leant around Draco in what he hoped was not an impolite stance in order to answer her. “And, er...Mid-January. I'll be taking the Blood Adoption potion soon, so that the baby won't be...er...so that the baby won't remind me of anything I'd rather not be reminded of.”

“Quite a good idea,” Draco interjected before his mother could speak again. “I imagine the adoptive alpha will be Severus, then?”

Ron immediately choked on his wine; Hermione slapped his back as she rolled her eyes, but smiled approvingly at Harry. Gemma's lips twitched into a grin, and Harry felt his face flush red as he narrowed his eyes at Draco for letting the cat out of the bag.

Draco, in response, sipped his wine innocently, though the faint curve of his lips gave the impression that he was quite proud of the response his simple words had caused.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Severus replied evenly before Harry was able to come up with an appropriate answer. “It was Harry's choice, I had no part in it. He is due to imbibe the potion just after Christmas, once it has fully matured.”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure you'll have a _part_ in it—”

“—language, Draco,” Narcissa interjected firmly. “We are guests here, and you needn't be so crude.”

“Apologies, Severus,” Draco said smoothly, as though he hadn't been reprimanded. “Of course, I meant a part in raising your child.”

“Of course,” Severus echoed, though his tone gave Harry the impression that he didn't believe Draco's excuse for a second. “Naturally, if Harry wishes to have help in raising _his_ child, I will be happy to support him.”

Draco did not appear entirely pleased with this response, but thankfully he let it drop, and as Hermione casually asked Severus what other potions he'd been working on lately, Draco leant close to Harry and whispered, “don't worry, we'll get him there.”

Harry forced out a small chuckle, though he didn't allow himself to dwell on the promise, even if it'd be nice for Severus to drop all notions of propriety, even for a moment, and tell Harry how he _really_ felt.

_Yeah,_ Harry thought as he speared a piece of lamb with his fork. _That'd be more than nice._

 

~*~

 

They wrapped up their dinner with a rich chocolate trifle. Ron had complained a little, but Severus firmly insisted that Christmas Pudding was a Christmas Day event, and not one second before.

Truthfully, Harry had _no_ idea what Ron was complaining about. With chocolate sponge cake soaked through with some sort of raspberry syrup, raspberry jam, and chocolate custard. On top, it was decorated with chocolate cream, fresh raspberries, and curls of dark chocolate.

In sum, it was pure indulgent _heaven_.

It was so good in fact that Draco was all but moaning in between bites, and Narcissa's sharp reprimands for his apparently unseemly behaviour went entirely ignored.

In truth, Harry didn't think anyone really noticed. The table had gone amazingly quiet as everyone enjoyed their trifle, while Severus was sporting a small winning smirk, as though he was aware how much the table was enjoying their dessert.

 

Later on that evening, as the group ended their night in the sitting room with a pot of tea, Severus and Narcissa had wandered off to clear up. Draco had snorted with notable disbelief at the concept of his mother cleaning anything herself, and Narcissa gently cuffed him on the ear, though the expressions upon the faces of both mother and son were affectionate, and made Harry smile.

The evening began to turn, at least for Harry, when he had just finished in the loo for the dozenth time that evening, and was waddling towards the stairs. At that same moment, he could faintly hear a voice coming from Severus's bedroom, and before he could completely think it through, he paused to listen.

 

“ _Severus, be truthful—why did you truly ask me up here?_ ” Narcissa asked, her voice edged with something that was almost annoyance, and Harry heard Severus huff in answer.

“ _I told you,_ ” Severus replied, “ _to get your opinion on Harry's gift.”_

“ _No, really, why did you ask me up here?_ ” Narcissa repeated, though she sounded truly irritated this time. “ _I think you know the gift is just fine, and I think you know why you asked to speak to me privately. We_ both _know what this is about.”_

“ _I merely needed to gain a second opinion for the gift, Narcissa_ ,” Severus replied yet again, his voice almost cold this time, and Harry shivered at the sound of it. “ _No other reason.”_

“ _Oh no?_ ” Narcissa asked, her voice now just as icy as Severus's was, like she didn't believe him for a moment. “ _Is that why you have tended to this omega's every need, not just tonight, but ever since he arrived here? Or why you covertly scent the air when he walks past? Or why you wear garments that expose your scent glands, and why you are protective to the point of feral if anyone so much as_ breathes _incorrectly around him?”_

“ _Narcissa—”_

“— _no, Severus,”_ she interrupted. “ _You have spent your entire life hidden away for fear of rejection. I do not blame you, after everything that transpired in our youth, but you have_ found _Harry. It's as plain as day how he feels about you, so why would you deny yourself such happiness?”_

“ _I am doing no such thing,”_ Severus replied smoothly, but Harry thought he could hear a faint tremor in his voice. “ _I cannot deny that I feel...protective of Harry, but I am not in the business of risking my charge's mental health by crossing that line.”_

“ _My dear Severus, I cannot help but notice how you are not denying that you are interested in him...”_

“ _Harry is interesting,”_ Severus replied with a dry sort of sarcasm that made Harry smile faintly. “ _I cannot deny that.”_

“ _Ah, of course,”_ Narcissa replied. “ _Would that be why you scent-marked him at dinner?”_

 

Harry's head snapped up.

_He did what?!_

 

“ _I did no such thing—”_

“— _you did, I saw you,”_ Narcissa interrupted again, her voice more accusatory than before. “ _Harry asked for the peas, and as you passed them to him, I saw you_ deliberately _cross wrists with him, touching his wrist gland with your own. I may not be alpha or omega, but I am not so unobservant to not notice_ that _. If you're willing to mark him, surely you must want to—”_

“ _I_ can't, _Narcissa,_ ” Severus snapped suddenly, cutting her off and making Harry jump a little. “ _Not yet. I know how he feels. I feel it too, I do. I want him at all hours of the day, to hold him, to...to take away his pain. Even if it were not a concern that I, as his Support, would overstep the boundaries by initiating something, I doubt Harry is ready for something like that._ ”

“ _Don't speak for him, Severus, you of all people should know better,_ ” _Narcissa said, though she sounded calmer than Harry would have expected her to. “I understand the complication of being his Support while you harbour feelings for him, but that is no reason to hide behind it and claim that he isn't ready. Let_ him _be the one to set those boundaries, and let_ him _be the one to tell you what he needs—don't guess at it.”_

 

_~*~_

 

Harry headed downstairs with his head feeling a little foggy, and he sat down heavily next to Draco, who immediately eyed him curiously.

“Something wrong?” Draco asked mildly over his cup of tea, watching Harry as he wiggled forward in order to grab a chocolate off one of the platters that had been laid out earlier.

“Why would something be wrong?” Harry asked thickly after he popped the whole truffle into his mouth, and Draco made a face, as though he didn't exactly approve of Harry's manners.

“Well, mostly because you look like someone killed a puppy in front of you,” Draco retorted dryly, and paused to sip his tea. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, I'm sure you must be aware of that.”

“No one killed a puppy,” Harry retorted grumpily while he pointedly ignored Draco's latter statement. Gemma had mentioned it more than once, as had Severus, but Draco didn't need to know that. “I just...um...did Severus do anything weird with me? At dinner?”

Draco's eyebrows raised so high they were at risk of disappearing into his hairline, and his hand wobbled a bit, almost like he was about to drop his teacup, but caught it at the last moment.

“Why do you ask?” he asked lightly, and Harry glared at him, which caused his companion to huff. “Oh, fine. Yes, I saw Severus scent-mark you, but I assumed it was a protective measure, given all the unfamiliar scents in his home at the moment, and not something bad or anything.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but snapped it shut in almost the same moment.

“Protective?” he ventured, and Draco nodded.

“Yes,” Draco said with a small huff as he sipped his tea again, handling it daintily, making it quite clear what sort of background he hailed from. “Not all scent-marking comes from a domineering or abusive frame of mind, Harry. Sometimes it's as simple as an alpha wishing to protect you. Gods, my father...well...he _drenched_ my mother in his scent, and she wasn't even omega. He always wanted to know who _owned_ her. Fair to say he was quite furious when she left him. But Severus...he's not like my father. He doesn't want to hurt you; anyone with eyes can see that. He wants you safe and secure.”

“You know a lot about him,” Harry observed, and Draco smirked at him.

“Relax, Harry,” Draco said teasingly. “As I said—Severus is not my type. He was my professor in school, and my Head of House. I was a Prefect, before...erm...well, just _before_. I got to know him quite well after that. He helped my mother get me out of there.”

There was no question which _there_ Draco had meant, and when Harry did not ask what Draco had meant he nodded in understanding, almost like he'd expected that Severus would tell him what had happened.

“Severus helped?” Harry asked instead, and he saw Draco's shoulders visibly relax when Harry deliberately pushed past their awkward moment. If Draco was anything like him, Harry thought he probably wouldn't want to talk too deeply about bad memories at Christmastime.

“Yes,” Draco replied, his voice a little shaky, and he sipped his tea again. “Mother was always...it sounds quite awful to say, but more of a trophy wife for my father than anything else. She came from a good family with good money, all that rot, but she had no experience with political or legal... _things_. Severus helped her navigate all the legalese of my father imprisoning me, and ensured that I got out in time, before Father's foul friend got hold of me.”

“Foul friend?” Harry asked curiously, and Draco shuddered a little.

“Macnair,” he replied. “The way I heard it, he went through omegas like—Harry?”

 

Something wet hit the back of Harry's hand.

He looked down.

When had he started crying?

 

“Harry.”

Severus's voice was soft but urgent—almost panicked. He fell into Harry's line of sight just as an acrid smell hit his nose. When Harry looked at himself again, he saw sick all down his front, though he couldn't remember needing to puke. Severus vanished both the sight and smell with a quick wave of his wand, but Harry could feel more tears dripping from his chin, even as Severus murmured, “what's wrong?”

“You...you should have told me— _warned_ me,” Harry rasped, wanting to feel angry at Severus, but he couldn't quite get past his anguish.

_Why_ would Severus not tell them? What reason did he have to keep such an important fact from them? Why did _he_ even want more omegas?

No, _he_ could not have the beautiful omega who had so recently become Harry's friend. He wasn't allowed to ruin another life. Harry would _not_ let it happen.

 

It was so quiet, Harry suddenly realised. The others were whispering softly to each other over what had just occurred, but they all seemed to know better than to press Harry with questions over what had sparked his episode.

Severus said something about Harry needing to rest, and Harry followed his lead robotically, following the alpha and watching as he simultaneously Summoning some sort of violently orange potion with his wand. Draco followed behind dutifully, regardless how many times Severus snapped at him to go away.

“I'm not going _anywhere_ ,” Draco snarled back. “This is your doing, Severus. You should have _told_ us that the same psychopath had his eye on me as well. His name was never in the papers, how was I to know that _he_ was the one who had kept the famous Boy Who Lived hostage for all that time?”

If Severus answered Draco's jibes, Harry didn't hear it. He felt dizzy and woozy, even as Severus coaxed him down onto his bed, and offered him the little bottle of potion.

“It's a pregnancy stabilizer,” Severus explained. “My own creation. It will calm your anxiety and curb any impulse your body may have to go into early labour. The Blood Adoption potion isn't ready yet, so you _need_ to take this now, Harry, regardless how furious you are with me.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, but even so, he didn't feel as though the glare was all that fierce. He downed the potion obediently, and it took but a moment for his panic to vanish, and he relaxed a little, but only physically. The potion hadn't taken away his knowledge of what had happened, or his anger at Severus.

Severus nodded, and he turned to Draco, who crossed his arms as he glared at the alpha.

“Explain,” Harry said as he forced himself up. He hated being angry with Severus, but at the moment it felt like he couldn't help it. _Why_ would Severus keep this from them?

“I didn't feel as though it was my story to tell,” Severus hedged, at least having the good grace to appear shamefaced for his massive miscalculation. “Draco, I had assumed you'd feel betrayed if I told Harry anything of your time at the House, beyond the bare essentials. That is your private experience, it would not be proper that I tell other people merely because of my part in getting you out. In truth, it did not occur to me that your terrible pasts would be considered topics of conversation for after dinner tea.”

“Typical alpha, running and hiding at the first sign of any display of emotion...” Draco grumbled, and Severus pursed his lips. “Get out, Severus.”

Severus did not move immediately, but glanced to Harry, who nodded in agreement to Draco's statement. As much as he _longed_ for Severus, at the moment he really didn't want him around.

“I just need some time to understand this,” Harry said as he ran a hand over his protruding belly. “I know you did not mean any harm—you never do, but...I just need some quiet time, all right?”

“All right,” Severus agreed readily, though he still eyed Harry with visible concern in his gaze. “I shall be downstairs if you need to talk, or need anything at all. Don't hesitate to send Draco in your stead if you don't feel up to coming down yourself.”

“Wonderful, now I'm your owl,” Draco sniped, though it sounded as though Draco didn't truly mean it, in particular when he shot Harry with a sly smirk. Severus didn't respond to the remark, and nodded once before he stepped out of the door and shut it gently behind him.

“So much for a nice Christmas,” Harry grumbled as Draco stepped over to the bed and lay down alongside him. It was a tight squeeze, but Draco managed it, and Harry found himself shocked that he didn't actually mind Draco's closeness. His calming omega scent made it easier to not think about why he was cross with Severus, and just relax a little. He smelled like tea and scones, and some sort of fruit—blackberry, maybe. His scent was nice.

“You smell like teatime,” Harry blurted out before Draco could respond to his first statement, and the other omega snorted.

“Yeah? Well you smell like treacle... _scarhead_.” He smirked when Harry giggled, and when he calmed a little asked, “are you okay, though? I truly had no idea that... _he_ was the one who had you. The papers never wrote his name, only that a former supporter of the Dark Lord took you captive. Looking back, it was probably my father's influence that stopped them from printing it.”

“I don't blame you,” Harry said softly, and he flushed a little at how _soft_ he sounded. He never liked it when he spoke like that, but at the moment he was too exhausted to try sounding anywhere in the realm of normal. “I just wish Severus had bothered to mention it.”

“What's that old adage about The Good Alpha? _When he's good he's very good, but when he's bad he's horrid_.” Draco paused, and offered Harry a reassuring smile. “Everyone can see that he loves you, but he _is_ an alpha at the end of the day, and everyone knows that that designation can be a bit thick, even at the best of times.”

Harry laughed again, and his new friend smiled at him, more warmly than before. Harry curled up closer, and Draco wrapped a protective arm around him. Despite the closeness, Harry could feel the platonic nature of the embrace. Draco wasn't holding him for some sort of romantic or sexual reason—and he'd repeated enough times that night that he was _strictly_ interested in muscular alphas.

He was doing it for one simple reason—to reassure Harry that he wasn't alone.

 

~*~

 

Harry didn't recall falling asleep, but he woke he was alone in the bed, though he could hear Draco whispering by the door.

“How is he?” a voice asked, one Harry immediately recognized as Severus's. Harry felt his heart constrict a little—Severus sounded genuinely worried.

“Calmer, I think,” Draco replied softly. “No thanks to you, Severus. I can't _believe_ you'd be so stupid as this.”

“I didn't—” Severus began, but cut himself off abruptly with a soft growl. “Harry's case is difficult sometimes, in particular knowing what things will set him off, and what things he can accept to hear. I knew it would be like that before I even met him, but I had not anticipated...some things.”

“Part of being a Support is knowing what the omega needs before they know it themselves,” Draco countered, his tone of voice almost accusatory. “If you can't be that for him, maybe he needs someone else to fill that particular role of helping him get better.”  
  
“ _No_ ,” Severus retorted, his voice little more than a growl. Harry's hand tensed upon the duvet, but otherwise he didn't move. “I can't...I can't let him go. I...he...”

“You have to, if you can't properly support and anticipate his needs. You care for him, I know that you do so _don't_ try and deny it, but it's becoming clear that you can't be what he needs in a _professional_ capacity, Severus,” Draco insisted, sounding entirely unruffled, while Severus seemed to be slowly falling apart. “That's why I didn't want to do the support program, you know. Most alphas will inevitably cock it up, which is not what I need in order to get over all the things they did to me _there_.”

“What are you saying?” Severus demanded, his voice still a whisper, but Harry could distinctly hear the desperation in it. It was clear that he couldn't bear even the thought of Harry leaving.

“I think you know what I'm saying,” Draco replied, sounding very much like he was smirking at the alpha. “Harry needs you, and you need him. The scent marking, the way you constantly protect and provide for him, and yet more than once, by your own admission, you've utterly failed to predict how he may respond to certain things, in particular when it comes to triggers. Really, it's obvious what I mean, must I really spell it out?”

“What do you propose?” Severus asked instead, and Draco let out a little huff of annoyance as he muttered something about _stupid alphas_ , even as Harry listened desperately not just to Severus's words, but the lilt of his voice that accompanied them. It was clear that the notion of letting Harry go seemed to be agonizing to him, and though his words could be interpreted as _I won't allow the omega to leave_ , Harry thought he could hear something else in it, something deeper than the selfishness of an alpha—

_Please don't take him away from me, I need him._

“Oh, my dear professor, that is a simple one,” Draco replied, his tone almost teasing.

“It would be simpler if you stated plainly what inane plan you've come up with,” Severus deadpanned, and when Draco giggled, Harry swore he could hear the blond grinning.

“Formally court him, of course.”


	17. Consent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for March 8th. Enjoy!

Chapter Sixteen – Consent

 

Harry didn't overhear much else that night.

Draco and Severus had stepped into the hallway, saying something of not disturbing Harry when he needed his sleep, and their voices faded away.

In the morning, Harry woke up with Draco snoring in his ear. He looked far less put-together than he usually did. He was dressed in green silk pyjamas, his hair was sticking up every which way, and a distinct trickle of drool was seeping out of the corner of his mouth and onto Harry's shoulder.

In an odd way, it was nice to see Draco looking less than perfect. It made Harry feel a little better about his own looks, and he was able to view himself less like some sort of gremlin compared to his new friend, and more like a normal person again.

When Harry began to fidget, contemplating if he should get up and go to the toilet, Draco began to stir.

“Hmm...Happy Christmas,” Draco mumbled as he cracked his eyes open, and Harry blinked.

“Er, right. Happy...Christmas.”

“You forgot, didn't you?”

“In my defence, a lot went on yesterday,” Harry retorted grumpily, which caused Draco to laugh.

“Fair point,” he agreed as he sat up and stretched, before he promptly flopped back down onto the pillows. “If it helps, Severus has every intent of making it up to you today.”

Harry hummed non-committally, and Draco raised his eyebrows at him in surprise at his non-answer.

“Do you _not_ want him to apologize?” Draco asked, and Harry grimaced, letting out another sound of uncertainty, which caused Draco to roll his eyes. “Harry, you're a big boy. Use your words.”

“I don't know.” Harry muttered, glowering at the bedspread as he said it. “I'm still really cross that he didn't say anything to us about who wanted you. He should have told me.”

“No, _I_ should have told you. Which, as I recall, I did. He should have told me who had _you_.”

“No, I should have—” Harry cut himself off, and glared at Draco, who smirked.

“It's each our own business, and Severus was trying to respect that, and he said as much last night, if you recall. Of course, there's no _right way_ to approach a situation as delicate as ours, and so it could be said that any approach is the wrong way, but I suppose Severus was trying to save you from more heartache. Personally, I doubt we'd get on so swimmingly if he'd told you in advance, and thus I'd be subjected to your pity all bloody night.”

Harry laughed, the sound surprising him more than a little, given how badly the previous night had ended, and as a result, it recalled Harry to what Draco had told Severus.

_Formally court him, of course._

For a moment, Harry wanted to ask Draco what that meant exactly, even as he watched his new friend get up in order to draw a dressing gown from a suitcase that Harry did not recall him having the night before, and he tugged it on. Draco was prattling on about waking up the others, informing Harry that Narcissa had spent the night as well, something about her being unwilling to leave Draco alone in a house with a strange alpha, but Harry was too caught up in his memories to really absorb much of what Draco was saying.

If this courtship happened, what would Harry have to _do?_ What if he had to...

Harry swallowed nervously, forcing the thought to stop. As attracted as he was to Severus, he _knew_ he wasn't ready for that.

“Harry, are you even _listening_ to me?”

Harry turned, and saw that Draco had used his wand to conjure a full-length mirror against his far wall, and he was using it to neaten his hair.

“Er, yeah, sorry,” Harry replied as he got up, and fumbled to get his dressing gown over his rotund belly. Draco stared at him, as though waiting for a response, and Harry flushed. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was _saying_ ,” Draco responded with a huff of annoyance, “that it is _well_ past sunrise, therefore the perfect time for us to wake the older adults in this house and have our gifts.”

“Gifts, right,” Harry replied as he watched Draco finish fixing his hair, and moved to pick out a pair of simple black socks from his bag, which caused Harry to curve a brow at him. “Planning on staying long?”

“I thought you might need something pleasant to look at if you were still cross with Severus,” Draco replied smoothly, and Harry snorted derisively, which caused the blond to smirk. Clearly, he knew exactly how good-looking he was.

“I'm not into omegas,” Harry replied on reflex, and Draco immediately rolled his eyes.

“No, you're into Severuses,” Draco retorted, which caused Harry to flush a deep scarlet from his hairline to his toes, and Draco immediately laughed. “Come on, you hopeless romantic—present time.”

 

~*~

 

Surprisingly when they'd gotten downstairs (after Harry's first pee break of the day, that is) both Narcissa and Severus were already up, and arranging platters of food and drink upon the coffee table, as though they both knew that the young men would be keen on opening their gifts before having any proper form of sustenance.

Two pots, one of tea and the other of coffee, and a platter heavy with orange-cranberry scones. It felt like more than enough breakfast for Harry, even as he gazed over at Severus and murmured a shy, “ _Happy Christmas_.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Severus replied with a warm smile, indeed warmer than Harry had seen from him before. Even Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise, as though he was wholly unused to seeing such an expression upon the face of his former professor. “Shall we begin?”

In between sips of tea and coffee, the small group delved into their gifts. They started with the stockings, of which ones with Draco and Narcissa's names emblazoned upon them seemed to have appeared overnight, and they were filled with small tokens of chocolate and other sweets, as well as little knick-knacks, though Harry was particularly looking forward to the hoard of chocolate he'd quickly amassed.

When they moved onto the tree, the gifts were far more substantial, though most embarrassingly, the lion's share seemed to be for Harry, which he was wholly unused to.

While Draco delved into gifts of fine clothes and expensive wines, Harry got books on childcare, fancy boxes of truffles, and what Ron had called a _Weasley Jumper—_ seemingly crafted by his mother, it was emerald-green and blissfully soft to the touch. He made a mental note to thank her as he tugged it on over his pyjamas, pleased with how warm he felt, not just from the new article of clothing, but also from how well his gifts to Severus had been received. He admired each one as though Harry had given him some sort of precious gem, and with eyes glittering, he turned to Harry and thanked him warmly, albeit with notably more enthusiasm for the brandy rather than the chocolates.

Suddenly, Severus got up, a note of nervousness in his gait as he carried a rectangular parcel over to Harry, and laid it gently in his lap.

“This is from me,” Severus said somewhat awkwardly, confirming to Harry that Severus was indeed nervous about this particular gift.

“Er, all right—oh, I mean, thank you,” Harry replied as he turned his attention to the gift, and ignored the sight of Draco rolling his eyes at Harry's distinct lack of social skills.

As Harry shifted his full attention to the gift upon his lap, he noted that it felt heavy and book-like. Privately he hoped that it wasn't another book on child-rearing, as he'd gotten _more_ than enough of those from Hermione.

Harry tucked his fingers under the green paper folds, pulling away the spellotape, and he saw everyone in the room smile at him with an odd sort of affection. He didn't really understand what was so amusing about how he opened gifts, was it really so odd that he did it slowly, and tried to savour it?

Harry twitched his head in a small half-shake, and resumed his unwrapping, to find...

A book?

Harry blinked at it, its fine leather cover in rich burgundy, its thick parchment pages, and the embossed gold label that read _Family Album_...

_No,_ he realized, _not a book. An album._

“Open it,” Severus said softly, and notably without any of his usual confidence.

Harry nodded and did as he was told, pulling back the cover gently, making it creak from its newness, and the first thing he saw was a wizarding photograph of a red-headed woman, a bespectacled man, and a black-haired baby.

It took him a moment to realize what he was looking at, and he blinked, a fat tear escaping past his glasses and dripping onto the page as he understood it all at once.

“This...this is my mum and dad...” Harry said thickly, sniffling as he mopped at his cheeks with the sleeve of his new jumper, and Severus sat down next to him, perhaps forgetting that Harry might still be cross with him, and touched his back gently.

“Keep looking,” Severus murmured.

Harry did, and began to turn the pages. His parents through the years, from their teenage years onwards, including many of his mother pregnant, as well as shots of two men, one who looked handsome enough to be a model, with his long, wavy locks, and another man always by his side, with sandy hair and soft features.

“Those are your godparents,” Severus explained, notably without even a hint of malice in his tone as he pointed to each one in turn. “That is Sirius Black, and that is Remus Lupin.”

“They...they look nice,” Harry offered as he laughed and mopped at his eyes again. Severus conjured a handkerchief for him, which Harry accepted gratefully, and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“They were remarkably open to the notion of parting with photographs of your parents for this little project,” Severus said softly, “even Black.”

Harry had a feeling that Severus meant that they were open to the idea of giving pictures of Harry's parents to Severus in particular, given their tumultuous past. Clearly they were willing to look past that for Harry's sake, which was good to know. It reaffirmed that they were probably past their days of treating Severus like scum.

He hoped, at least. Severus was—by and large—so good to him, and Harry hated the idea of him being hurt.

“Thank you, Severus,” Harry said, his voice still barely more than a whisper as he regretfully shut the album and hugged it to his chest.

The last few gifts were passed out. The little box Narcissa had brought the night before for Harry turned out to be some kind of special cologne that would mask his omega scent in short bursts, though Severus complained that he could make a better one if Harry really wanted. Draco and Harry exchanged an amused look while Draco unwrapped a bottle of red wine, though neither omega said anything about Severus's response to Narcissa's gift.

The final gift was for Harry from his godparents. It was long and thin, and by the looks on everyone else's faces, they seemed to at least have an inkling of what it was. Harry felt a little guilty that he hadn't gotten anything for them beyond sending that letter, but maybe in the new year he could try to reach out to them properly, though after the baby came. He just wanted everything sorted with the Blood Adoption before he added anything else to his plate.

Harry unwrapped it, the red and gold paper falling away easily, and Draco swore out loud.

A sleek broom tumbled from the wrappings, stopping in midair, at the perfect height for Harry to climb onto it. It looked nothing like the bristly, beaten up flying broomsticks from cartoons he'd seen Dudley watching in days long past, nor the woefully ancient broom Severus sometimes used for quick trips to the Apothecary when Harry wasn't up to accompanying him. Each twig of the tail was clipped to perfection, the ash handle shone brightly in the daylight, and the gold lettering of the name upon its side almost seemed to twinkle.

_Firebolt._

Even with knowing next to nothing about brooms, Harry thought it looked beautiful. He longed to climb on and give it a go, but with an extra passenger, he doubted it was safe— _yet_.

“A _Firebolt_ ,” Draco nearly moaned as he gazed at it. “I've only a Nimbus 2003 at home...”

“Want to give it a go?” Harry immediately offered, and laughed as Draco snatched up the broom and raced for the back door, like a little kid with his brand-new toy.

“Should I assume that he might not be coming back?” Harry mused as he watched Draco mount his broom and take off with a shout of glee, all his prim and proper manners of the night before seemingly gone in his excitement over the Firebolt.

“I think he will,” Severus replied with a wry smirk. “He raced off in nothing but his pyjamas, after all. I assume the winter air will get to him before long.”

Harry snorted with laughter, and shook his head as he drew his photo album back into his lap, and opened it again.

 

~*~

 

As the day began to progress, Harry happily fell into the familiar rhythm of life in Severus's household. Draco did at last come back, shivering and covered in snow, though he wouldn't explain to anyone how that had happened. His attitude reminded Harry very much of a house cat who would fall and act like it had _meant_ to do it, in the process never managing to lose even an iota of its dignity in the process.

Draco was like that now, even as his mother fussed over him. The omega ignored her, even as he said something about wanting a bath in between chattering teeth.

Harry chuckled as he watched Draco hasten upstairs closely followed by his mother, leaving Harry alone in the sitting room with his tea, scones, and his album. The group had foregone a proper sit-down breakfast without really saying so outright, but Harry was fine with that—he'd much rather look at his family some more anyway.

Severus had been in the kitchen, presumably starting on the turkey for that evening, and Harry could hear the water running from upstairs, confirming that Draco was taking the bath that he had wanted.

The moment Draco seemed to be properly occupied however, Severus stepped into the sitting room again.

Harry glanced up, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

Severus was dressed in a fine suit that he hadn't been wearing before, and in his hands he held a modest but beautiful bouquet of yellow roses—Harry's favourite.

Harry was fairly certain he knew what the presence of the flowers meant, but he didn't want to spoil the moment by saying as much.

Instead he watched, holding his breath as Severus approached him. The alpha waved his wand lazily, making the coffee table move out of the way soundlessly, and he dropped fluidly to one knee before Harry.

Harry let out a little gasp, his eyes a little wide as Severus gently pried the album from Harry's hands and set it aside, but still close enough to him that Harry didn't feel like it was being taken away.

Severus offered him the flowers, and Harry took them without question. They smelled sweet and fresh despite the season, and the yellow roses were interwoven with small sprigs of baby's breath, making the bouquet look even more beautiful.

When Harry looked back up to Severus, he began to speak.

“Harry, I have found myself no longer able to deny how I feel for you,” Severus said softy as he held Harry's gaze, though the look in the older man's eyes made Harry feel like the alpha might be well beyond nervous about opening his heart to another like this. “Our scents are compatible, we both know this. I have wanted you since I first saw you, but my duties as a Support came before my own needs at all times. Unfortunately, my foolish emotions more than once got in the way of your safety in this house as I longed for you, but I could not bring myself to fulfil my own selfish desires, and pursue you.

“Now, I am asking to court you formally,” Severus continued, his gaze at last breaking from Harry's, almost like he felt ashamed of even asking. “I brought you the roses because I recall that they were your favourites, but the colour of a yellow rose is also said to mean friendship. If you decide that you are not ready for a courting, or do not share my feelings...friendship, I think, is something I would very much like to have with you.”

“I...I don't know what to say,” Harry managed after a long pause, even as Severus remained on one knee, perhaps waiting for a proper answer. “This courtship thing...what does it mean?”

“It is not so rigid as one from days gone by,” Severus explained patiently. “It involves dates out together, but of course I would never take you anywhere too crowded where you might feel uncomfortable, and it involves gifts from time to time—usually trinkets, nothing generally substantial. You would be required to appoint a chaperone, who would live with us until you decide you are ready for something more intimate.”

“Chaperone?” Harry asked. “Like a...babysitter?”

“More like a bodyguard,” Severus supplied with a slight smile. “It's a stipulation set by the Omega Clinic, not tradition. It's to ensure that you are not coerced or taken advantage of in any way. They are required to submit reports of our conduct together until such time as the clinic feels that I am trustworthy, and will not harm you in some way.”

“Oh.” Harry paused, and bit his lip. He wanted to say yes, but part of him was hesitant—what if he panicked over a kiss, or something? “Is there...anything else I should know?”

“These courtships are on the terms of the omega, Harry,” Severus said gently, as though he was trying to reassure him. “If you consent to letting me court you, the next step would be to acquire formal permission from your parents—in this case, Black and Lupin.” He paused, his lips twisting a little, somewhere between a smirk and a grimace, though Harry couldn't tell which. “I cannot even hold your hand without permission, so to speak. Truly, everything is up to you, and, again, if you are not ready or do not want this of me, I _swear_ that I shall respect that decision.”

All the information was a little overwhelming, but at the same time oddly reassuring. It gave Harry the impression that Severus was doing all that he could to ensure that Harry knew everything prior to responding to Severus's request. In truth, he had no idea if his so-called parents would even agree to this, considering the chaotic past they shared with Severus, but Harry decided that that worry could be saved for another day.

“I think you know my answer already,” Harry said, smiling a little. He reached for Severus, and his alpha closed both hands over one of Harry's.

“I want to hear you say it,” Severus insisted, but his voice was still gentle, like he was trying to coax a fawn out of hiding. “Please.”

“Yes, Severus,” Harry replied as he inched a little closer to his alpha. “You may court me.”

Severus smiled then. A true, warm smile reserved only for Harry. He bent forward and pressed the faintest kiss to the back of his omega's hand, and Harry couldn't help but giggle at the way it tickled pleasantly.

Barring his worries over how the others may react to this, Harry couldn't find it in himself to dwell on it—he refused to allow anything to sully this moment, that first moment, when Severus at last asked Harry to be his.

Even as Harry let out a little laugh, setting the flowers aside in order to pull Severus to his feet and embrace him, he knew, without a doubt, that he would _never_ forget today.


	18. Adoption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for March 22nd. Enjoy!

Chapter Seventeen – Adoption

 

_Dear Harry,_

_We were so happy to hear from you, and it was indeed a wonderful Christmas surprise for us!_

_You may call us whatever you feel comfortable with; when you were a baby, we referred to ourselves as your uncles, if that helps at all._

_We were so happy to receive your owl, in fact Sirius cried when he read it, he was just so relieved to hear from you after so many months of not knowing how you were doing, save what we have heard through third parties. We were just so distraught when we found out that you were alive; in relief, mind you. For all these years we had been told you were dead, and to find out what actually occurred...we would not wish that sort of ordeal on our worst enemy, and certainly not on someone we care about so deeply._

_We won't lie to you, Harry, when we first discovered who was to be your Support, both of us were very concerned. You must understand: our history, as you call it, with Severus was quite horrible. We were not kind to him, and his retaliation to our unkindness sullied our view of him even further. Unfortunately, teenage boys can be cruel creatures, and neither us nor Severus were exceptions to that._

_However, if he treats you well, then we have no objections. We are fully aware that the Omega Clinic oversees the Support Alphas very closely, and if they have found no reason to penalise his behaviour, then we, too, accept the situation wholeheartedly—all we want is for you to be happy. If with Severus is where you feel safest, then you will stay there; neither of us wish to force you into a space where you feel unsafe, in particular when you are expecting. As far as we are concerned, you should focus on yourself right now, and don't worry about anyone else's opinions of your situation._

_To the questions you asked, I (Remus) am a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, and Sirius is something of an Omega of Leisure—he uses his vast mounds of gold to fund various Pro-Omega projects, to abolish Omega Houses, establish segregated wings within Azkaban, that sort of thing. Unfortunately we don't have children, but ever since we lost your parents, we had always intended to adopt you. Due to a number of extenuating circumstances however, we weren't able to follow through with that wish._

_Your parents were wonderful people, Harry. Your mother was kind and so joyful, and close friends with Severus for many years. Your father was a wonderfully talented wizard and Quidditch player, and he loved you and your mother very much._

_We hope to have an opportunity to tell you more about them in future, perhaps face to face, but that can wait until you are ready for more visitors. Until then, both of us are more than happy to restrict ourselves to letters with you, as we do not wish to pressure you into any form of contact that you are not prepared for._

_Happy Christmas!_

_Sirius & Remus_

_PS. Please enjoy your gift. But perhaps after our pseudo-grandchild is born._

 

Harry stared down at the letter, having entirely forgotten that it was coming. In truth, so much had happened in the last few weeks that it had barely occurred to Harry that they would respond.

“And what did Lupin have to say?”

The voice was dry, almost sarcastic, and Harry flushed. Despite his words, Severus's tone of voice was pleasant, glancing up from his book in order to regard his courting omega calmly.

“They said...from both of them,” Harry replied awkwardly, and Severus's lips twitched at the corners into a faint smile.

“Yes, but Lupin was always the brains of that operation,” Severus explained. “Most likely, it was he who wrote it.”

Harry glanced back down to the letter, and noted how Remus had put his name in parentheses after using _I_. He flushed, having not noticed that before.

“You're right,” Harry said as he set down the letter on the table, where it immediately began to curl into a scroll once more. He chewed the side of his lip, wondering if he should respond. That was the polite thing to do, right?

Except, with all that was happening, he didn't have a _clue_ what he should say to them. He knew that Severus had to ask their permission before they went forward formally with the courtship, but what if they disapproved? Severus was quite a bit older than him, after all—what if they would rather having someone more age-appropriate?

Harry shook his head to dismiss the thoughts, and reached for the teapot. Severus cleared his throat pointedly in order to stop him, and Harry wanted to curse at his own stupidity. Severus had _told_ him he could only have water for the next few hours.

“The potion won't be as effective if you have too many things in your system,” Severus reminded him gently, with only the faintest bite of impatience in his voice. “It won't be much longer, Harry, but we do need to wait for the potion to fully mature.”

“I know, Severus,” Harry grumbled. He'd been told as much at least a hundred times in the last two days, and he was getting tired of hearing Severus repeat himself. “How long until I can take the bloody thing? I'm _hungry_.”

“Just another hour, Harry,” Severus replied. “Then you may have your tea.”

Harry let out an indistinct grumble, and Severus smiled, though he didn't say anything.

“If you're so hungry, you can always distract yourself by going and waking up your chaperone,” Severus suggested idly, and Harry huffed a soft laugh.

“I had no idea chaperoning a courting couple required so much _sleeping,_ ” Harry said, and Severus smirked.

“When one is as pampered as Mr Malfoy, one grows used to long afternoon naps.”

“Careful, Professor,” a third voice chimed in. Harry turned, and he saw Draco meandering down the stairs in pyjamas and a dressing gown, despite the fact that it was nearly two in the afternoon. “If you're not nice to me, I'll say bad things about you in my reports.”

“I sincerely doubt _the alpha won't let me sleep all day_ is grounds for Harry's removal,” Severus said dryly, and Harry giggled.

“You know you _love_ all this free time you have to be alone with the object of your affections,” Draco teased as he plucked a teacup and profiterole off the platter, and Harry's stomach seemed to groan with envy. “You're just lucky that I know you're not a raving pervert. Someone more rigid might be flitting about _constantly,_ and you'd never get any private time with Harry.”

“Hmm, yes, that is indeed a small mercy,” Severus replied dryly. “Though I do believe the whole point is to make _Harry_ feel secure during all this, so in future I would advise you _not_ sleep the entire day away.”

Harry felt himself flush, and he dropped his gaze to his lap. He knew that Severus didn't mean anything by the comment, but it still felt infantilizing in a way. They hardly even held hands since Severus's heartfelt request, and at times it felt as though nothing between them had changed at all.

As a test, Harry silently reached for Severus as he and Draco continued to converse. He knew they couldn't really progress with anything until they received proper approval from Harry's supposed parents, but Harry still needed something to reaffirm that Severus's request had been real, and not some sort of wildly vivid dream.

Severus's hand felt soft, and Harry's heart stuttered in his chest when Severus's fingers threaded with the omega's effortlessly, and without protest.

Harry bit his lip, though in truth he really wanted to grin broadly. Severus shared a look with him, smiling faintly, and he brushed his thumb over the back of Harry's hand in silent reassurance.

Draco smirked at them, but made no comment on the show of affection, for which Harry was grateful. Harry shifted a little closer to his alpha while Draco and Severus continued to chat, and neither his new friend nor his courting alpha remarked on his slow approach until, at last, Harry leant into Severus's side, and Harry's alpha let go of his hand in order to wrap an arm around the his waist, holding Harry close.

 

~*~

 

It was a long hour of waiting, despite Harry being able to lean against his alpha and listen to him talk, given that he was too excited at the notion of _finally_ taking the potion to contribute very much to the conversation.

It perhaps had something to do with the fact that Draco and Severus had decided to discuss the inner workings of the Blood Adoption potion in depth, and Harry _really_ didn't need to know that it included more than just the blood and semen of Severus himself, but things like a rabbit's ovaries and a cat's placenta.

Severus had noticed the expressions Harry had made without effort, but his reassurances that Harry wouldn't taste any of it didn't exactly help much.

 

At the end of the hour, a soft chiming sounded from Severus's pocket, and he pulled out a watch on a chain, which he tapped once with his wand in order to silence it.

“It's time,” Severus announced, “are you ready, Harry?”

“I've been ready for _weeks_ ,” Harry said with a wide smile, which caused Severus to chuckle. “Can we go get it?”

“I shall get you a gobletful,” Severus said firmly, but not dismissively as he stroked a hand through Harry's hair fondly. “Beyond the risk of reminding you of your past by escorting you to my lab, I have more than a few things brewing, and the fumes would not be good for our child. Would you mind waiting here?”

Harry was too excited to put up much of a fuss, and nodded. Severus smiled at him faintly, and took Harry's hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before he got up and swept towards his laboratory door.

 

“He said _our_ ,” Draco noted the moment Severus had gone, and Harry grinned at his friend.

“Yeah,” Harry replied with an airy sort of tone of voice, which caused Draco to chuckle warmly.

“He is so in love with you, it's almost sickening,” Draco teased, making Harry laugh out loud. “Maybe one day I'll find myself an alpha like that.”

“As long as it's not the same one,” Harry said with a smirk, and Draco rolled his eyes as he muttered something about _territorial omegas_.

 

Harry was not given an opportunity to respond as Severus chose that moment to return to the main level of the house with a large smoking goblet cradled carefully in his hands.

The steam that curled up from the concoction was not what Harry would consider to be normal steam—it was like red smoke. The goblet itself bore no stem, and as Severus got closer, Harry noted that it was round and rough, like a stone.

“You need to show your stomach, Harry,” Severus said gently, almost apologetically. “I need to incant a spell and paint your stomach with part of the potion before you can drink it.”

“Oh...er, all right,” Harry replied, feeling a little odd about the request, but in truth this time he could see why Severus hadn't told him in advance—he'd work his mind into a frenzy over it, worrying if it would lead to a sex act, but with Draco nearby, he wasn't concerned. Draco had a wand, and could do magic much better than Harry could. Harry also still had the coin from Gemma, if anything happened. Harry doubted it would, and he trusted Severus implicitly, but he couldn't help that niggling fear at the back of his mind that had yet to disappear completely.

If Severus appeared at all surprised by Harry's easy acceptance of this addendum, he didn't show it. However, he did still slightly when Harry rolled up the hem of his jumper, allowing the garment to sit at the top of his swollen belly, which was criss-crossed with both scars and stretch marks.

Severus knelt in front of Harry, and the omega let out a little gasp. At this angle, Harry could see directly into the goblet, and found the inside of the vessel to be studded with pretty purple crystals. The potion itself was a deep red, and it smelled strongly of raspberry and peony.

“Are you ready, Harry?” Severus asked softly, and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, Severus,” Harry replied with a similar tone of voice, “I'm ready.”

Severus dipped his fingers into the potion, and began to paint symbols on Harry's stomach, speaking them aloud as he went.

“ _Ur, for change,_ ” Severus said as he painted something like an incomplete lower-case N on his stomach.

“ _Jara, for harvest,_ ” he continued, painting two sideways arrows, the bases of which overlapped just slightly.

“ _And Mann, for love of Alpha and Omega,_ ” Severus finished as he drew a sideways X bracketed by two lines. “ _May the Omega imbibe and change his fate, for the good of all._ ”

Severus handed Harry the goblet wordlessly, even as his stomach tingled pleasantly where the runes had been painted. For fear of ruining the spell, or ritual, or whatever it was, Harry fought the urge to ask any questions as he screwed his eyes shut and doffed the potion quickly. It was thick like heavy cream, clung to the inside of his mouth, and tasted like malt vinegar, which was especially confusing when it had smelled so vastly different.

Harry forced himself to choke it all down, then handed the goblet back to Severus, who set it aside. He remained kneeling as he took Harry's hands, kissing the back of one of them again, and Harry smiled at his courting alpha warmly.

It was done.

The memory of Macnair was no more.

“I don't feel any diff— _whoa!_ ”

The exclamation jumped from Harry's lips as the runes on his belly began to glow white, and the rest of his stomach was suffused with red, like a sudden blush restricted to that one area of his body. He was almost ready to panic, but Severus clutched his hands more tightly, murmuring, “it's all right, Harry, this is supposed to happen.”

This time, Harry rather wished that Severus had _warned_ him about this particular effect. It didn't hurt, but it _was_ alarming.

The glowing letters slowly sank into Harry's skin, and by his estimation it took less than a minute. The redness took longer to fade, and it disappeared in patches like a red rash that had been treated with a salve.

“It's done,” Severus murmured, drawing Harry out of his daze, and he stared at the alpha in surprise, though he was still crouched in front of Harry. “May I?”

Severus motioned to Harry's now entirely normal-looking stomach, indicating that he'd like to touch it. Harry nodded immediately, and smiled faintly when Severus reached forward to press his palms to either side of Harry's stomach, and Harry smiled when he felt the baby kick.

“They like their daddy,” Harry whispered, and Severus smiled faintly.

“I like them too,” Severus murmured, just softly enough for Harry to hear, and making him beam at his alpha, even as he continued to caress Harry's stomach almost reverently. It was a stark contrast to how Severus had acted just before Christmas, when he almost jumped out of his skin when Harry tried to share a similar moment with him.

“I'll take care of you—both of you,” Severus insisted as his dark gaze slid from Harry's stomach and up to his eyes. “I don't want you to worry, or be afraid that things will change once our child is born. I will still care for you, Harry, and I will still wish to proceed with our courtship—on _your_ terms. I will not do anything that you don't feel ready for.”

“I know, Severus,” Harry replied as he reached out to touch the man's wrist, even as he continued to cradle Harry's stomach. “Come on, stop prostrating at my feet. You can touch my stomach just as well from the sofa.”

Draco choked on his tea, and Severus's cheeks tinged the faintest pink, perhaps only just realizing what he was doing. He muttered some sort of apology as he carefully slid Harry's jumper back into place before he got up and prepared fresh cups of tea for both Harry and himself, then sat close to the omega as they sipped their drinks.

“So, that's done,” Draco drawled, though his voice was hesitant, as though he was concerned of ruining the moment. “How long until Severus Junior comes along?”

“Eight days,” Severus replied, and Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Cutting it a bit fine, aren't you?” Draco asked, and the alpha shrugged.

“Nothing to be done about that, the potion works best closer to the due date. It would be wasteful to have Harry take it any earlier.”

“It doesn't really matter, it's done,” Harry added in between sips of tea, while he eyed the little goodies upon the tray. Apparently sensing this, Severus made him up a plate of a little bit of everything and handed it to his omega, and Harry flushed a little under all the attention.

Their conversation fell into silence, save for the clink of china and the crackling of the fire in the grate. Outside it had begun to snow, and the wind that accompanied it was making the windows rattle in their frames. Draco muttered something about needing warmer clothes, and wandered back upstairs in search of them.

“I hope you don't feel...suffocated,” Severus said the moment that Draco had gone, and Harry blinked up at his alpha in confusion. Before he could ask, Severus added, “As soon as the potion took hold I could...I could smell the difference in your scent. The child, being mine, it makes me want you more...want to please you more. I have heard of alphas becoming overbearing the closer their omega comes to the birth date of their child, but I do not wish to do anything harmful to you _or_ our child.”

“I don't feel suffocated,” Harry affirmed, reaching out with his free hand in order to touch Severus's knee, and he felt a thrill of excitement course through him at the touch. It felt so _intimate_ , and far from be alarmed by this, Harry felt oddly lighthearted, like taking the potion had divested him of the last memories of his tormentor.

“Good,” Severus replied, and he reached for Harry's hand in order to twine their fingers together. “I meant what I said—I _will_ protect you both, no matter what is to come by that. Whether you wish to stay here forever and be a mother, or if you wish to enter the wizarding world and find some form of employment, I will support your decisions, Harry.”

“You don't have to try so hard, Severus,” Harry said softly as he offered Severus's hand a gentle squeeze. “I trust you—really, I do.”

“Perhaps you shouldn't,” Severus breathed as he moved closer to his omega, and he gazed at Harry with an intensity that made Harry's heart still.

“You've always made up for your mistakes, and a few small hiccups doesn't make you a bad person,” Harry insisted, but Severus glanced away, as though he truly believed that that _did_ make him a bad person.

Harry wouldn't allow Severus this moment of self-deprecation, and caught the alpha's chin in his free hand. For a moment, he had no idea what to say, or indeed how to say it, when the perfect reassurance bloomed into his mind.

Harry arched up, and kissed him.


	19. Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay guys! The plague has somewhat hampered my inspiration (primarily because as an asthmatic I am very nervous about this thing). Next update is scheduled for April 5th. Enjoy!

Chapter Eighteen – Closer

 

Severus was the first to pull away.

It was slow, the alpha moving like he was under water. His lips hovered close to Harry's like he deeply regretted breaking the kiss, but couldn't quite muster up the nerve to do it again.

“H-Harry...we shouldn't...” Severus murmured, his voice almost shaking, even as he reached a hand out to touch Harry's cheek gently. “It's—it's too soon...”

“Shouldn't what?” Harry asked as he stared up at his alpha. “What's too soon?”

“ _ This, _ us,” Severus explained, though it sounded almost as though it physically pained him to say it. “I can't push you when you're so vulnerable—”

“—I kissed  _ you _ , Severus,” Harry pointed out, and jabbed a finger into the man's chest as he said it. “I'll not have you doing this...this...this  _ thing _ where you treat me like I'm a stupid kid. You're courting me, the child I am carrying is  _ officially  _ yours—why would I  _ not  _ want to kiss you?”

_ I'm in love with you, you idiot. _

Harry didn't say it, though. Already he felt like crying from his outburst, moreso after he noted the guarded look upon Severus's face, as though he expected Harry to reject him at any moment. 

Severus may have accused Harry of being vulnerable, but at the moment Severus seemed to be the one who was encapsulating that very sentiment. 

“Because...because...” Severus bared his teeth in visible annoyance, as though he was truly cross that he couldn't come up with an appropriate response. Harry grinned, feeling triumphant rather than fearful at the look on his courting partner's face, and Severus pulled back with a small huff. 

_ I think he means he's not ready for more _ , Harry mused, though he didn't quite understand what was stopping Severus from just  _ saying  _ it. Harry spoke up all the time when he wasn't ready for something, why was it so different for Severus?

 

~*~

 

“Because he's an alpha,” Draco filled in later when Harry had relayed what had happened to his friend. “If they're not trying to dictate how and when we have children, they're too proud to show any sort of weakness whatsoever.” 

Draco picked up a grape off the platter that he'd been grazing from, and popped it into his mouth. He was draped over one of Severus's armchairs like a comfortable house cat, and not at all like any sort of house guest Harry had ever seen.

“My guess is he's afraid of letting himself go, especially in front of you,” Draco continued after he swallowed. “He might be scared of letting himself relax too much, and have that lead to a rut. It makes no sense, given that an alpha won't go into rut except for some very special circumstances, and he'll probably be taking suppressants for that anyway.”

“I've never seen an alpha in rut,” Harry remarked thoughtfully as he nursed his tea, and gazed about the sitting room, which felt amazingly empty without the alpha present. Severus had gone to his lab to brew, but only after apologizing to Harry about a hundred times for his behaviour.  In truth, Harry was quite enjoying the room to breathe, and it had given him ample opportunity to think over Severus's reaction. “I mean, I don't think so.  _ He  _ was always horrible to me, so I don't know if I'd really know the difference...”

“You'd know, trust me,” Draco replied as he visibly shivered. “Their scent changes...it gets stronger. They just sort of...chase you. They really want a chase. Once they've caught you, they'll...” 

He trailed off, and shivered again. Harry didn't need to ask what they did when an alpha in rut caught the omega—it was written all over Draco's face.

That, and the notion that he'd seen it before, probably first-hand. 

“I just wish he'd unwind a little,” Harry said, instead of pressing the issue, and Draco smirked at him.

“He will, just give him time,” Draco said consolingly. “Severus is an alpha, after all—and they can all be utter fools when it comes to matters of the heart.” He paused, and picked up a cube of cheese off his platter as he asked, “have you thought of how to ask your parents for permission to let Severus court you yet? None of this can really start until then, you know.”

“I haven't had a chance to think on it, honestly,” Harry admitted with a soft huff as he lifted his legs in order to curl up on the sofa, and miraculously managed to keep from spilling his tea all over himself in the process. “It's been sort of a busy day.”

“True,” Draco agreed, nodding his head. “It's customary for the alpha to ask permission, but...well...”

“Does  _ everyone  _ know what a shite past my godparents had with Severus?” Harry demanded sourly when Draco trailed off, and the blond huffed a laugh.

“No,” he replied easily. “I just have the unique pleasure of knowing both of you—and my mother filled me in on a few details. The way I have heard it,  _ all  _ of them were right bastards to each other as teenagers. Did you know that Severus swapped out your dad's acne cream for undiluted bubotuber pus one time?”

“What's bubotuber pus?”

“Secretion of a magical plant. You're not supposed to handle it without protective gloves. Give you boils all over whatever touches it,” Draco explained, smirking as he spoke. “Mother said Severus was treated like  _ royalty  _ for a few weeks in Slytherin house, then Potter retaliated by slathering Severus's seat in Charms with the stuff, and...well...I cannot think of a  _ worse  _ place to get boils than your arse.”

Draco and Harry winced at the same time, and Harry sipped his tea again. Draco's stories weren't exactly cheering him—how was he supposed to get their permission for this to go forward if their past with Severus was that bad?

Perhaps his worry showed on his face, given that Draco offered him a small, reassuring smile. 

“I had Lupin as a professor from third year to sixth year,” Draco said, his tone gentler than usual, and devoid of any of its usual sarcasm. “I wasn't so foolish as to not notice how he was—even in a crisis, he was always very calm and level-headed; precious little got to him. He's not so petty as to reject you and Severus's request out of spite, though it may take a little convincing, as his omega is not  _ nearly  _ as even-tempered.”

“What sort of convincing?” Harry asked hesitantly, his free hand falling to his stomach, and he smiled when he felt a slight kick, almost like the baby was reassuring him. 

“They might insist on a visit, at the very least,” Draco said, and shrugged his shoulders. “If I were in their position, that's likely what I would want—to make sure you're not being coerced.”

“Maybe I should wait until after the baby comes...” Harry mumbled as he gazed down into his teacup. “I'm not sure if I'm ready for so much...people.”

“Which is fair,” Draco agreed. “I, for one, cannot fathom being around so many Gryffindors for more than a few minutes at a time. Any longer and I run the risk of losing  _ all  _ of my brain cells...”

 

~*~

 

The afternoon passed much as those before it, except with the noticeable absence of Harry's courting alpha. 

Harry frowned, no longer feeling as though it was some sort of reprieve. He was almost tempted to go into Severus's lab after him, but given what had happened the last time he set foot inside it, Harry was a little hesitant to try again so soon.

Harry rubbed a hand compulsively over his belly, not listening as Draco monologued about some sort of prank he'd pulled in school on Ron and his friends, while consuming his body weight in nibbles and yet still managing to act out the scene quite spectacularly. Outside, the wind continued to howl, and the snow was piling up against the windows at an alarming rate, making Harry  _ long  _ for spring to come. 

“Harry, are you  _ listening  _ to me?” Draco demanded suddenly, and Harry shifted his gaze back to his friend, blinking at him innocently. 

“No,” he answered honestly. “I'm worried about Severus.”

“Of course you are,” Draco grumbled as he set aside his platter of food, and stood up with an audible groan. “I suppose it's my duty to go and talk some sense into your useless alpha...”

Without waiting for a response, Draco stalked towards the kitchen, and barged into Severus's lab without knocking, and began to shout his name as he stomped down the stairs.

Harry's lips curved into an amused smile as he listened to Draco shout. From the distance he couldn't clearly hear what was being said, though he was fairly certain he heard Draco call Severus a  _ princess _ at one point, which made him snigger. Most likely, Draco was one of the few people who could get away with calling Severus that, and escape with all his parts in the right place. 

 

Draco stalked back upstairs about ten minutes later, looking sour. 

“Well, I tried,” Draco said as he stormed back into the sitting room. “That man is as stubborn as a mule, I swear. He's convinced he is somehow at fault for  _ you  _ snogging  _ him. _ ” Draco snatched up his platter again, and rolled his eyes. 

“Maybe I should try?” Harry hedged, but even as he said it, he felt a tendril of panic-induced dizziness work its way into his brain. The idea of going down into a basement of any kind was still hard for him. 

“Are you sure that's wise?” Draco asked, curving a brow at Harry. “From what Severus has told me, that's a trigger for you.”

“It is,” Harry confirmed, his lips twisting a little as he sat there. “I dunno. Maybe Severus wouldn't be hiding if he knew I wasn't afraid of him?”

“It's possible,” Draco said, his head inclining in a short nod as he sat there, seemingly lost in thought before he suddenly snapped his fingers and shot Harry a smirk. “I have an idea.”

 

~*~

 

For all the things he expected of Draco, making Harry sit in front of the laboratory door with a length of twine in his hand hadn't exactly entered his mind.

For Harry's part, he was glad that he'd insisted on at least having a chair, given that it wasn't likely he'd be able to get up off the floor without help. 

“Can you please explain this again?” Harry asked as he sat there, feeling utterly foolish, and Draco smirked at him. 

“It's simple, Harry,” he said. “The twine is charmed. In fact, it's inspired by a prank product from a shop in Diagon Alley. The twine acts as an amplifier, and will project your voice directly into Severus's lab so you can speak to him without having to go down yourself.”

“How come Severus never thought of this?” Harry asked curiously as he eyed the twine somewhat dubiously. It didn't feel particularly magical, just like some ordinary twine. To his question however, Draco huffed a laugh.

“I sincerely doubt Severus would ever willingly draw inspiration from the likes of Fred and George Weasley,” Draco replied, smirking a little as he said it. “I, however, will steal any idea I can and claim it as my own.”

“Of course you would,” Harry said as he chuckled at his friend as he realized what name Draco had uttered. “Weasley...are they related to Ron?”

“They're his older twin brothers,” Draco explained. “ _ Hellions  _ would be the most polite way to describe them, to be honest.” He paused, and motioned to Harry. “But we can discuss the Weasley family later. Come on, speak into the twine.”

_ Speak into the twine, _ Harry thought as he fought the urge to giggle.  _ There has got to be a naughty joke in there somewhere... _

Harry was proud primarily of the fact that the notion of a sexual joke didn't send him spiralling into a terrible flashback. In fact, it thrilled him so completely that for a moment he was tempted to rush off and write a letter to Gemma in order to ask her if this meant he was  _ finally  _ getting better.

However, the notion that Severus was hiding away from him over some foolish sense of self-sacrifice or fear reminded him of why he was sitting there to begin with. 

This time, it was Harry who needed to help Severus.

“Severus?” Harry said, lifting the twine close to his mouth like a miniscule microphone, and he saw Draco smile out of the corner of his eye. The supportive expression made Harry feel lighter and more confident. “Er...I think you might be hiding away because you're worried that I went too far and upset myself...or maybe you weren't prepared for me to do that or...or something. But I want you to know that I'm  _ not  _ upset—not at all. Kissing you was brilliant, like...like a nice cuppa on a cold day, or the smell of roses...or something. It was just really nice, and I wasn't scared. You never scare me, not really. My memories scare me, but you never do. I trust you more than I trust myself really, and I never worry that you'll take advantage of me in  _ that  _ way. I think you know better than I do what I'm ready for and  _ not  _ ready for, except maybe this time, when you got a little scared. But...it's okay to be scared; you taught me that. You, and Gemma, and Draco, and Hermione...all of you taught me that it's okay to be scared sometimes, but you can't let it stop you from going forward, even if it's only a little bit at a time.”

Harry trailed off, and bit his lip. He'd got so caught up in his words that for a moment he'd completely forgotten what the point of his speech was. 

He glanced to Draco for guidance, but he wasn't there, and Harry saw the back of his blond head in the sitting room, nose buried in a book, as though he was intending to give Harry and Severus a moment of privacy.

Harry turned back to the twine, his stomach bunched up in knots, and tried to find the thread of his words again. However, Severus opened the door before he could, and in fact much sooner than Harry had anticipated. 

“Harry?” Severus ventured, almost hesitantly, stepping out in his voluminous brewing robes, and Harry smiled at him tentatively, a hand falling to his stomach, reminding Severus just who else he was hiding from, and Severus's eyes flickered with noticeable guilt as he dropped to his knees in front of his courting omega.

“Hello there,” Harry replied, smiling as he reached out to touch the alpha's cheek. From this position Severus was an inch or two below Harry, and his omega instincts seemed to balk at the near-domineering position. However, he ignored it as best he could in favour of reassuring Severus that he wasn't upset with him—that felt to Harry like more of a priority. “I've missed you these last few hours.”

“Gods, Harry, I'm so sorry,” Severus murmured as he touched Harry's belly, which brought a smile to Harry's face. It felt so  _ good  _ to be touched by his alpha. “I've been an utter fool, dictating what you're ready for instead of allowing you to tell me yourself. I don't even deserve—”

“—don't start that again,” Harry interrupted, smirking a little as he reached for Severus's hands and pulled him a little closer, then stood up and guided his alpha to his feet so that Harry's stomach was pressed firmly against Severus's abdomen. “I'm sorry if I upset  _ you _ with that kiss, and I know I have a long way to go before I'm ready to do...er... _ certain things _ , but I  _ am  _ ready to be close with you, and I liked kissing you—I liked it a  _ lot _ . So, please, don't hide from me, all right? I really missed you today, and we're supposed to be celebrating, remember? You just blood-adopted my child, and it's  _ ours  _ now. If that isn't a cause for celebration, I have no idea what is.”

Severus appeared for a moment like he might argue, staring down at Harry with his lips parted and eyes a little wider than normal. However, he seemed to curb the impulse, and his expression softened into a smile—an expression Harry rarely saw from the older man, and it seemed to light up his face, making him appear more youthful than ever before. 

“You're right, Harry,” Severus replied softly, bowing forward to kiss his hair, while one hand moved to touch his cheek gently. “And I  _ am  _ happy that you have chosen me—happier than you can even imagine. I suppose I allowed myself to get too caught up in my worries over your ability to dictate what you want. After all, you are not the same young man I accepted into my care all those months ago.”

“I know what I want, Severus,” Harry insisted as he lifted a hand to cover the alpha's, shifting his wrist a little in order to scent-mark his courting mate's in the same way Severus had done to him over Christmas. Thankfully, this small act did not cause Severus to freeze. “And I'll repeat myself until you believe it—I  _ trust  _ you.”

As far as Harry was concerned, admitting that he trusted another person felt as powerful as a testament of love. He couldn't recall trusting  _ anyone  _ before Severus—at least, not completely. 

But Severus was different—Harry could feel it. Harry knew it down to his very core. It was as undeniable to him as the colour of the sky, the smell of rain, or the warmth of a fire.

Harry got on his toes again for another kiss. 

This time, Severus seemed to be expecting it. 

His hands dropped to Harry's waist, and drew him close. Harry reached up, his arms winding around the alpha's neck, and Severus  _ smiled _ , the expression so warm, so inviting—

This time when Harry kissed him, there was no cause for rejection, no surprise, only the joy that came from being close with one's loved one.

To Harry's great joy and relief, this all culminated in one simple act—

Severus kissed him back.


	20. Unsettled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for April 19th. Enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen – Unsettled

 

Harry couldn't believe how much life had changed in the days following that first kiss.

Draco complained often (albeit teasingly) of how  _ disgusting  _ Harry and Severus had become, though in truth they were doing very little out of the ordinary. Perhaps snogging a little more often, but that was roughly the extent of it—Harry wasn't so stupid as to try for anything more intimate, not yet.

Beyond the fact that they still hadn't formally requested for the courtship to go forward from his godparents, Severus seemed to have a fairly good sense of what Harry was emotionally prepared for when it came to intimacy. As a result, he always had the good sense to curb their activities from getting too heated. 

That wasn't to say it was a  _ perfect radar _ , but ever since that first kiss he seemed to have a better sense of what truly fell into the realm of what Harry could do physically, and what he was most certainly  _ not  _ ready for.

Harry was glad of this, but so too did he make certain to tell Severus when something was okay, and when something was not. As Severus got better at gauging Harry's reactions, Harry also got better at gauging Severus's. Because of this, Harry had gotten rather good at noticing when Severus  _ believed _ that he'd gone too far, and when Harry needed to tell him that nothing was wrong—yet.

Harry was determined to get to a place where he felt entirely all right with everything. He wanted to have a real relationship with his alpha, and not the stop-start thing that he had become so good at. 

 

“Maybe that's something to stress over  _ after _ you're finished having that child,” Draco pointed out dryly when Harry relayed his problem to his friend. It was the morning five days before he was due to undergo his C-Section, making the remark particular accurate, but it still caused Harry to let out a soft, annoyed huff. 

Harry and Draco were grazing over an enormous platter of pastries and fresh fruit, while Severus had gone out to the apothecary for a supply run. In truth, Harry was glad he was gone—he'd been something of a pain ever since things had begun to calm down, in particular surrounding the baby. Severus would worry if Harry even sneezed too hard, then he would remind the omega  _ repeatedly  _ that he was not in a fit medical state to have the baby naturally. 

Harry was fed up of it—if anything, all the added stress was more likely to make his water break than his apparent allergies.

“I know,” Harry said at last, grimacing as he split a buttery croissant in half, and showered himself with crumbs. “I just can't help thinking about it. I keep having these stupid dreams, and—”

“Oh,  _ dreams?” _ Draco asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and Harry felt his face flush scarlet.

“Not  _ those  _ kinds of dreams, you prat,” Harry retorted crossly, “I mean stupid lovey-dovey dreams where we sleep in the same bed, and the baby's bassinet is next to my side, and I go to sleep with him holding me...those sorts of dreams.”

“Those aren't wildly impossible wants or needs,” Draco remarked as he plucked a strawberry off the table, and used his wand to hull it. “Even someone with our sorts of backgrounds can become touch-starved.”

“Touch-starved?” Harry echoed curiously. “What's that?”

“It's when you go without touching any other person for a long time,” Draco explained, then popped the strawberry into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed before he added, “I'm sure a mind healer would be able to explain it more succinctly than I can, but that's the simplified version. My guess would be that your subconscious is telling you that you need more physical contact—not necessarily with just an alpha, but just with people in general who you trust enough for something like that.”

“But I've been glued to the hip with Severus for days,” Harry pointed out, gesturing with half of his croissant as he talked. “Why would my stupid bloody brain  _ still _ need more?”

“Think about it,” Draco said as he helped himself to more fruit, “you were stuck with  _ him  _ for, what, ten years?” he paused, and Harry nodded. “That's ten years of nothing but horrible contact, and then you've only been really physically close with Severus for a short while. I mean, were it me, I would want all I could get after  _ that _ . You can't exactly expect your mind to feel improved after just a few days.”

“So what do you suggest?” Harry demanded as he bit into his croissant at last, showering the table with yet more crumbs, and making Draco wrinkle his nose at Harry's distinct lack of table manners.

“Lie with him,” Draco said simply, but pressed on when he noticed how Harry tensed. “I  _ do not  _ mean in a sexual way. I would not be so foolish as to suggest something upsetting, or to lie with him in a place that might be triggering, such as in his bedroom or in a bed at all. A sofa can work just as well until you're ready for more, but I think that allowing him to embrace you, even for a few minutes, would probably lift a great weight off not just your mind, but your confused omega senses as well.”

“My...omega senses?” Harry asked blankly, and Draco let out an irritated huff.

“Gods above and below, you know  _ nothing  _ of yourself, do you?” He paused, and grimaced. “Well, I suppose you did not get any form of proper education from...” he trailed off, his fair face flushing a faint pink, as though it only just occurred to him that Harry wouldn't have an opportunity to learn much of anything about his designation, but that didn't stop Harry from scowling at him. 

“I was a bit busy being horribly abused and raped to read up on myself, thanks,” Harry said coldly, and Draco winced.

“Sorry,” Draco said, though it sounded to Harry very much like he wasn't used to apologizing to people. “I suppose you wouldn't have found the time.” He paused again, this time to sip his tea before he launched into yet another explanation.

“We learned about the innate senses of all the designations in school—it was part of the sixth year curriculum,” Draco explained patiently in between more servings of food. “We studied with the matron on things like heat and rut cycles, and the needs of a pair bond during pregnancy and all the rest. Omegas often need closeness with their mate during the last weeks of a pregnancy—of course, closeness if they are involved with the parent alpha. Omegas who don't have an emotional tie to the parent alpha won't have that same need. 

“Anyway, the matron always said that it was healthier to allow the pair bond to share a space—meaning a bedroom—even if they were still in school, as it kept the omega from feeling extra stress, and minimised miscarriage or premature birth risks.”

“Wow...even if they were underage?” Harry asked as he continued to intermittently nibble on his croissant, and Draco smirked a little.

“I imagine there would be permission slips needed from the parents, but alas I did not get that far in my studies...the house my father imprisoned me in did not allow omegas to learn anything they deemed  _ unnecessary _ .”

“Oh.” Harry winced. “Er...sorry.”

“You didn't lock me up in that torturous place,” Draco replied primly, “you've nothing to apologize for.”

 

The pair fell into silence, neither young man seemingly hungry any longer, and both picked at the food before them. Harry quickly got fed up of the awkward silence, and stood in order to move over to the sitting room, groaning a little as he stood up, and doing his best to ignore the jolting, knife-like pain in his lower back that had been plaguing him ever since he'd awoken that morning. 

_ This kid is not in a good mood today,  _ Harry mused, breathing through it as he turned and waddled away, and by the time he sat down again the pain had passed, enabling him to pick up his book from the side table where he'd left it the night before, and he began to read. 

 

For the better part of two hours Harry read his book in peace. Draco wandered back upstairs, perhaps still feeling a bit awkward about their near-argument, and Harry was subject to more back pain, though a little creative positional shifting seemed to alleviate it, and the odd pressure-pain that seemed to keep accompanying it. Harry wasn't particularly worried, and nothing seemed to be  _ wrong  _ in the strictest sense _ — _ it made sense that his enormously rotund belly would hurt his back at this stage, mere days before he was due.

 

When Severus got home, the first thing he did was stride over to Harry, cradle his head in his hands, and offer him a sweet kiss.

“Your hands are cold,” Harry teased, and Severus chuckled warmly as he moved in to kiss Harry again. 

“And you are warm,” Severus replied smoothly, which caused Harry to flush. “Did I miss anything exciting while I was out?”

“Draco isn't speaking to me, we had a bit of an argument...or, sort of an argument, but it was nothing to write home about,” Harry said, and Severus arched an eyebrow at his omega. 

“Oh? And what did you argue about?”

“I wouldn't say  _ argue  _ exactly, more...a disagreement?” Harry laughed weakly, and smiled when Severus sat down next to him, his apothecary purchases apparently forgotten in his concern over his omega. “Er...we both sort of collectively forgot about each other's traumatic pasts and things got a little awkward between us. I s'pose we both needed a bit of a mental break from each other.”

“It is not so uncommon that two people in close quarters to clash, in particular in high-stress situations like during pregnancy or close to one's heat,” Severus offered, his hand curling around the back of Harry's neck as he spoke, and he shivered when he felt the alpha begin to tease the hairs on the back of his neck gently. “I would not be so foolish as to claim that such a stereotype is true in all situations, but on occasion it does bear some validity.”

“Like right now?” Harry asked, and Severus smirked at him.

“Like right now.”

 

~*~

 

As the day began to progress, the memory of Draco's suggestion hovered at the back of Harry's mind, though he never quite had the nerve to bring it up with his alpha. Severus seemed more on edge than usual, and even Severus himself seemed to be struggling to explain why.

Instead, Harry watched Severus flit from his laboratory to the sitting room where Harry was situated every couple of minutes. It went on for so long that Harry eventually got fed up of the cyclical tapping of Severus's boots on the lab's steps, and irritably told him to sit down and have a cup of tea.

Draco in particular appeared amazed that Severus had obeyed Harry's command, though he wisely did not comment on it. Harry's back had continued to twinge on and off all afternoon, and it was making him crankier than usual. Draco did try to make light of it, but when both Harry and Severus glared at him he gave up, and carried his teacup and scone upstairs, presumably for a little peace. 

“I wish I knew what was wrong with me today,” Harry muttered sourly, leaning back against the sofa while he picked at his scone, piled high with clotted cream and fresh berries. It looked deeply appetizing, but Harry had no desire to eat it. “I've been a right misery ever since I got up, and the back pain isn't helping.”

“Would you like me to rub your back?” Severus asked mildly, and Harry felt himself flush.

“Er...N-No, that's—that's all right.”

Harry grimaced, not liking in the least how much his voice shook, or the way his panic curled in his belly like the long-forgotten pain of an old injury. He wished it wasn't there, especially not for Severus, but clearly it would take more than a few months to completely rid himself of his fear of the touch of an alpha.

To Severus's credit, he did not appear at all insulted by Harry's refusal, and nodded calmly as he sipped his tea again before he asked, “maybe something to distract you, then? I could read to you if you like.”

“All right,” Harry agreed, smiling faintly in relief at how Severus did not appear cross by the rejection. “Er...as long as it's not one of my textbooks.”

“I believe something can be arranged,” Severus said with a warm chuckle, smiling at Harry wryly before he flicked his wand once, and a narrow paperback slipped off the bookshelf and drifted lazily towards Severus. 

Harry eased back upon the sofa, abandoning his untouched scone while he cradled his teacup in his hands. Severus cast another spell, this one causing his teacup and saucer to float next to him, freeing up his hands in order to open the book, and after turning a few pages, he began to read aloud.

_ “The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn...” _

 

Harry did not recall falling asleep, even as Severus's smooth, velvet-tone surrounded him like a soft blanket. His voice did not take away his back pain, but the story certainly aided in distracting him. When he did at last wake he felt horribly groggy, but despite the thick aroma of spiced meat pies upon the air, Harry found, oddly, that he still had no appetite. 

“Good, you're awake,” Severus said as he swept back into the sitting room, almost like he'd been able to sense the precise moment when Harry had woken up. “We have pie and mash for dinner, maybe a little food will make you feel better, Harry.”

“It smells wonderful, really,” Harry hedged as he rubbed his eyes, “but I'm really not that hungry...is that bad?”

“It's not bad, Harry, don't worry,” Severus replied consolingly as he sat upon the edge of the sofa and carded his fingers through Harry's sleep-mussed hair, then pecked his lips lightly. “I can keep a pie warm for you if you change your mind later. Would you rather rest upstairs instead? It might help your back.”

“Can you help me?” Harry asked, feeling his face flush even as he voiced the question. In truth, he wasn't entirely certain he could make it up the stairs on his own, with the way his back pains kept flaring up without any sort of warning, and he didn't like the idea of falling when he was so heavily pregnant.

Thankfully, Severus offered up no sort of remark, positive or otherwise, to Harry's tentative request. Instead, he scooped Harry up into his arms like he weighed nothing (which was impressive, considering how huge Harry felt at the moment) and carried him towards the stairs. 

 

Up in his room, Severus used his wand to draw back the duvet, and only then did he lay Harry down gently, and Harry offered him a smile of gratitude, far too exhausted to offer up some sort of comment about how gently he was being handled. 

Without asking, Severus waved his wand again, this time to transfigure Harry's clothes from jeans and a jumper to pyjamas, before he at last pulled the duvet up to his chin, and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to Harry's lips.

“Is there anything I can get you, Harry?” Severus murmured as he touched the young man's cheek reverently, and Harry laughed, wiggling out of the constricting confines of the blanket just enough to take Severus's hand. 

“I want to say pain potion, but I know you'll say no,” Harry teased, which brought a warm chuckle out of his alpha.

“It's better that you ride it out, which is why I offered the massage earlier, though I do understand why you wouldn't wish for me to touch you there,” Severus replied as he leant forward to kiss each of Harry's fingers, the act making the omega giggle at how sweet Severus was being. “It's safer for the child to have less potions you have in your system, and you'll have quite a few during the birth itself. I can only imagine how uncomfortable you must be at present, Harry, but it's not forever. With some luck and rest, you'll feel more like yourself tomorrow.”

“I hope so,” Harry muttered sullenly. “Maybe I slept wrong or something...I dunno. It's been bothering me ever since I got up.”

Harry knew that he was repeating himself, but Severus didn't seem to mind. He ran his fingers through Harry's hair yet again, and Harry's eyelids fluttered a little at the pleasant sensation. He really liked it when Severus played with his hair. 

“Rest, Harry,” Severus murmured as he leant in to press one last gentle kiss to Harry's forehead. “I'll be in to check on you soon.”

Harry nodded, smiling a little as he watched Severus get up and step out of the room, but even so he felt the oddest compulsion to protest his leaving, as though even the smallest distance between them felt like they were oceans apart.

Severus seemed to feel it too as he hesitated more than once on his way towards the door, but at last forced himself away. Harry listened to him hasten down the stairs, so quickly in fact that Harry thought it was a marvel that he didn't trip and fall.

Harry smiled a little as he heard the low thrum of Severus speaking to Draco, though he was far too exhausted by the long day to feel upset at Severus's hasty retreat. In truth, Harry got the impression that Severus was struggling with his alpha instincts to give him his space, so it seemed logical to him that hastening away was the only way to ensure that he didn't give in and stay with Harry all night long.

_ Alphas really are ridiculous sometimes,  _ Harry thought as he rolled onto his side, closed his eyes, and did his best to get some sleep.

 

~*~

 

Harry woke in pain.

Harry had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was. His back was in agony, like a knife in his spine, and paired with it was an overwhelming pressure, causing a choking yelp to jump from his throat before he had the good sense to stop it—Macnair hated it when he screamed.

_ No, no, not Macnair, not anymore,  _ Harry thought hazily.  _ I'm home. With Severus. I just...forgot for a moment. _

Harry scrubbed a hand across his face as he sat up, grimacing at the wetness he felt collected in his pyjama bottoms. It had been a tremendously long time since he'd had any sort of accident like this—

_ Oh. _

_ Oh, no. _

_ “SEVERUS!” _

Harry screamed louder than he ever had in his life. Severus Apparated directly into the bedroom, and a few seconds later Draco burst through the door, his face paler than usual, most likely alarmed by Harry's horrified scream.

“My water broke,” Harry explained hastily, his voice shaking as he gazed up to his alpha. “What do we  _ do? _ The healer said I can't—”

“It's all right, Harry,” Severus murmured as he hastened to his bedside and kissed him once, silencing him before he pressed his forehead against Harry's, and determinedly stared into the frightened omega's eyes. “Do you hear me, Harry? It's  _ all right.  _ I need you to stay calm for me, and we'll get you to the clinic. Can you do that for me?”

“I—I think so...” Harry swallowed thickly. He felt like he was choking. “Wh-What do we do? Can we...I dunno...sew it up with magic?”

“I'm afraid not,” Severus replied as he moved in to kiss Harry again, though it was difficult to tell if Severus was kissing him merely because he  _ wanted  _ to, or as some sort of attempt to put Harry's mind at ease. “At this point, the baby needs to come out, and a few days early won't hurt them. We're going to get dressed, and we're going to go to the Omega Clinic. When we get there, we will resume our plan of birth by caesarean. Nothing has changed, Harry. Everything is going to be fine. Just try to stay calm, all right? I swear to you that I will not leave your side.”

“A-All right,” Harry agreed as he nodded his head shakily, while concurrently Draco began to race around Harry's room with an overnight bag, packing up everything Harry might need for a few days in hospital, as well as blankets, nappies, and clothing for the baby. 

“Everything is going to be fine, Harry,” Severus repeated, one hand caressing Harry's cheek as he spoke. “I promise, I would  _ never  _ allow anything to happen to you.”

In that moment, Harry knew it. His fear was still there, raging beneath the surface like an angry beast, his eyes were damp, though he did not know when he had started crying. 

Despite all the fear, and all the uncertainty, Harry could still feel it—everything  _ would  _ be all right, because Severus would be there with him, every step of the way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Excerpt read by Severus is the first paragraph of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ by Oscar Wilde, 1891 edition.


End file.
